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the day before holy week

it was evening in april

and the sun’s golden glow

illuminated suburban streets

fringed with childhood at play

something felt more alive then

as if we’d all been loosed

from the bounds of winter’s chill

and escaped to dance off our misery

new-mown grass perfumed the air

with the promise of warmth

the diligent scyther was grubby

but i could have kissed him

spring made me mab-mad

gypsy and pixie danced rings

on the green-again lawn

at my journey’s end

flowers encircling towering trees

as the warm gloaming deepened

i felt truly come home again

where i should belong

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