She entered, wringing winter from
her hair, dripping petals on the carpet.
We welcomed her with arms wide open,
brought her steaming tea to warm
her translucent bones.
Her fingers spelled out spring under the mug
and her eyes flashed dogwood.
Funny, how we forgot so quickly why she came,
pale laughter fading to grey, followed by rain.
In the silence, bark peeled from the trees.
In the morning we found that the wind had blown her away,
leaving April to occupy the orchard.
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