April

I will follow the child and the lamb Into green weather, Searching in hanging nests For the frail blue cradles From which birds are spun. Stepping carefully Lest my foot bruise Soft grasses or petals newly minted, I gather into my arms Clouds, feathers, sky, bright dew and precious suns. And we join hands, The child and I, At the christening of the lamb To the meadow's sway and the wide, u nclouded weather.

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