The first pale green popups up, unceremoniously on the tree
in my back yard, too pale to be real, later leaves will come in darker shade.
It is this color this time of year I treasure, destined not
to endure, spring springing up as if out of nowhere, stirring me up inside as
well as out, a feeling rising out of the turf or a chill seas in shades I know can
last no longer than the green of these leaves does, the tendering linger with the
gradual rise of temperature, not yet the scalding heat we beat to life as we
plow into each other, too fragile to survive the scalding summer will later
bring, I treasure both, cling to this now for as long as it lass, then later
basking in the head, gripping that season, too, knowing it cannot last either, longer
yet, richer indeed, yet destined to fade as this does not, giving way later to
chill air and again the deep chill winter must bring.
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