Spring is lurking under this chill. I can smell it. The winterbright sun is trying to thaw something reluctant, not the snow, it's gone. I think I found it, the
first clover that's not in a ranch house window with a leprechaun. So small, with light and dark greens only found near the earth. My son can sense it. He won't
"In the sun-stained brown grass"
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