Seven in the morning of the first

of May already so bright in clear

blue air birds make their plans

immense. Time for our little

 

dog to darken the earth with her

mighty stream and then a few thimbles

of kibble. As I doze my way back

and glance at the car of the neighbor

 

I try to avoid

a wide disc of wood from some

unlucky loved tree on

the driver’s seat.

I guess everything I

thought about the spring is wrong.

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