April’s March

A child’s echo across the field,

Wafting on sun and warmth,

Hovering for a moment, lingering.

Like a long time ago,

That one laugh,

Wild, excited discovery,

Stirs an afternoon nap, however brief.

When new light finds the old window again,

And traces the hard line of rain across the sky,

Marking the place where even the restless wake

From a sleep they so patiently waited for.

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