I love the way dead things
are revealed sodden on the lawn
once the mud arrives.
I love how idiotic
the first flowers look
when mocked by late snow.
I love having
the first bees
sting me,
I love the way they die
in the aftermath of battle
and not in the heat of it.
Mostly, I love
the way green
becomes the new white,
how it’s still
just a blanket
over rot.

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