The edge of winter pulls
as the dawn of a new morning
giving way
to the healing
scent of spring.
I'm beckoned to its
smell as it flows fresh
oxygen to my soul.
Fair, full of
fragrant delight
this fancy embrace of
new life,
born out of death
A sonnet, singing anew.
Songs mingled in a cooing
of doves once again,
heard in the land.
A land where all things
become new.
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