The Dusk Of Winter On The Ides Of March
The ides of March is upon us once again.
On the cusp of Spring just a year ago
I was sick, resigned to my bed,
curled into myself
in the dark
fairly sure that death was near.
Now
On the dusk of Winter, at this moment
I am inclined to see the best:
With you, the contrast
is might’ stark,
and
with the cold concluding, I end my refrain
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