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42 a​seed​For​sPring​equinox March 21 .​.​.​till​I​feel​the​earth​around​the​place​my​head​has​lain under​winter’s​touch,​and​it​crumbles.​Slanted​weight​of​clouds. Reaching​with​my​head​and​shoulders​past​the​open​crust dried​by​spring​wind.​Sun.​Tucking​through​the​ground that​has​planted​cold​inside​me,​made​its​waiting​be​my​food. Now​I​watch​the​watching​dark​my​light’s​long-​ grown​dark​makes​known. ...

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