Before the Dark Call

Dare I raise my young, taut head

when winter still slinks round, pounce-ready—sneaky like that?

There is sun and wind and water and will,

and my face yearns to breathe it all in.

Dare I expose my defenseless self

when life is short-lived, petals weary—fragile like that?

There is wood and sap and strength and stretch,

and I can’t help but drink it in before the dark call—

the long fall that cuts my splendor short.

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