spring forward

The sun still low and cold
only mocks the change
spring claims to hold
and soon bring within reach
I cycle back round
to familiar ground
trampled to mud
beneath my feet
that snow promised
to wipe clean

The winds may battle
make dead leaves rattle
but they won’t sway a thing
in my direction
The pull from the roots
won’t give in to indiscretions
or attempts to resurrect
what never breathed on its own

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