Poetry

Yearning

Ice

Frozen Over

Hard, Packed Dirt.

Forming an Impenetrable Roof

That Forces Me Down, Forces Me To Remain

I Crack and From Within Sprouts a Tender Root

That Demands, Insistently, to Break Through That Roof

I Am Pushing, Yearning, Propelling Through the Dirt,

Asserting My Presence. I Will Not Be Ignored. I Will

Not Be Held Down and Smothered. With One

Last Shove, I Break Through and Find the

Ground Damp Not Solid, the Air

Warm Instead of Chilled. I

Stretch Toward the Sun,

My Small Arms Raised

in Salutation. I am

Spring.

 

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