Caught between stone and glass

Tangled about pillars

Twisting through the branches of trees

Echoing from one person to another

As they bring their joy into spring

Their joy is more poignant more precious

Than all the natural joy of spring

For although it is now caught

Out in the open air

It is at times dead

Dead as the bird decomposing by the swamp

Dry as the brittle bark on the hole-ridden stump

So now as it calls across the grass to me

I answer and know

How beautiful, how strong

How deep is that joy that laughs

The End

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