the reeds are getting wily
I open my book
and Spring makes a simple allusion to how
we are all changing
Your color more perfect
Your kindness more pervasive
I look up at Love
the moon is chasing waterlilies whose fragrance has been captured
by new birds
and I turn over my nest
to the way buds become instruments of genius
and all those peculiar themes curling into magic
are Your words
ripening... a beehive in my binding
and the hushpitbuzz
of how
we are always like this
and Love
even in Season
is still the very best Love
I Love You
Your Beloved
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