How Daphne Became a Tree
Running from the god of sun:
It must have been like
this grey light
of early spring,
a changing time
before the flow’s begun,
bitter ends that
start,
the tips of buds on
branches,
but, batter back
my leafy bower
and savor February,
March,
unsure,
not yet,
until the rain
to wash,
transforms again,
becomes.
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