NORA ADSHADE
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First Day of Spring, 2020

3/26/2020

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Snow drops spring forth from perfect snow in the background of this poem.
First Day of Spring, 2020
We woke to an unseen sun,
hissing tires on damp pavement,
and quiet, as even the birds stayed home;
spring was born wet that year.

Fits of rain hung like a threat
of future torrents on still frozen land,
rivers a deluge of winter's discarded debris;
spring was born wet that year.

We huddled in our houses
and thought of what the wet might bring,
what the flood might wipe away;
spring was born wet that year.

But the air was warm, and the damp ground
bloomed with delicate snowdrops
and the sweet scent of petrichor,
and in our homes we called one another
with our own promises and plans
because even though spring was born wet that year,
sunny days would come.
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