The Cercis

The Cercis awaken,
The World is reflected in glass.

I run my fingers through the bodies of the dead.

A million billion lives lived,
cats, butterflies, poison ivy, sons, daughters, beloveds, a mushroom.

Dead now, metamorphed into soil feeding

The Cercis awaken
from a short sleep to swell with pink,
clouds scud by on the blue of the sky.
This moment I clearly see, before I morph
into an older me.

But not yet. Not until I behold
clouds scudding on glass, and a galaxy
of lives in my hands.


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