This Too Shall Pass

Clouds rush behind the trees

so quickly

that it is as if they were dreading

the touch of those barely green branches

limbs and twigs

that are the very best


to spring.

The crab apple tree flares pink

and this too shall pass.


I walk up the stairs,

my legs aching vaguely

and think how this place

this collection

of buildings and people

that is named a college;

this very door,

these very steps

are a part of me,

like a birth mark

or scar,

only better.


I watch the graduates congregate—

black frocks flapping in the storm wind—

and I know

this too shall pass.


I flip through the pictures,

the smiling faces of facebook,

that broken connector we rely on to keep us


when we are apart.

I remember the choke of tears

that held me before

at the thought of them leaving

and I know;

that too, has passed.


As the grey-blue clouds rush past

the trees of this place,

so we rush through

and are gone

with only fragments of it

woven into our skin

to remind us that

some things do pass

and make us

more fully us

along the way.

The End

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