sprung
and
i thought blue butterflies
above the tall grass
a hare with one ear down
a dusting of gnats dancing
on the strung sunbeams
the decision of pollen to fly
the nest of promises sitting
hidden in expectation
in the sway of a breeze
thoughts are not preordained
although deep seated
the past a mother’s memory
the child a dream
to run the scream of a laugh
so long that is startles the hare
explodes the butterflies
and the blue is simply
the deepest
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