Spring

And the muscles of wind
loosening everything,
though I knew you when the sun stuck
to all of it,
and light, having travelled 97 million miles,
brought your face close. Still,
you shivered at night.
You were so thin then.
I feel the sunlight here and there today; I hold on
to what is leaving.
I try to forget how things change.
I try to remember the birds that summer
that somehow made it back.

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