You passed a
tree today
that had
erupted into blasts
of snow-white
bloom
so that there
wasn’t any room
for anything
but it.
You’d peeped
into the inner
zone of
Spring, where
you were
shown how much
catastrophe there
is in ecstasy.
You’d been
voluptuously
shot. It made
you want
to leap around
a lot.
.
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