FOR JUST A FEW
RANDOM MOMENTS
I hear the whisper of wind running
through the yet-bare trees. Something
is happening, but we can't see it. Soon
it will all open to glory : the lightest
first green of Spring. The world will
somehow loosen its bonds on us.
We well seem freer then, though
whether it will be so or not still
remains to be seen; like a man-made
clock on a man-made wall, some
slow ticking moment, reminding
us of something, will pause for
its split second, and
then move on.
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