The spring is quite far off
when the sun and rain begin to raise
the sleeping beauty of the earth
and bring to bloom
the life that has been dormant
for a time  

And yet I've tasted Spring already
in the Fall
As one might say
the prothesis of the eschaton
a preview of the things to come
or then again
what might have been  

It's strange to find such
promise, hope, and tragedy
within one tiny rose                      

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