February Morning

Beneath the snow, sagebrush,
beneath the sagebrush, dirt,
beneath the dirt, the wet lagoon,

and in my nose, all mingling –
the water and the earth,
the frozen blanket,

plants and perfume
bursting through – the spring,
the death, and we,

our bodies,
breath,
between the two.

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2 thoughts on “February Morning

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