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Tag Archives: Spring poems
“What Me, Cruel?”
April stares back at us and asks: What me, cruel? Because mournful windowsrattle in my winds and pots tip over, green with rust or lichen? Because hairs on your bare legsshiver like crocus? She finds us in her glassy eyeand springs: You … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged April is the cruelest month, Baudelaire, nature poetry, poetry, rebirth, reincarnation, Spring poems, T.S. Eliot, The Muse
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