I stand in the lull of dusk
My babies asleep a footstep away
My bare feet press into the dirt and gravel
My hands cup around the cool green stems
Of freshly cut daffodils and tulips
A cascade of red and yellow
Ready to adorn my table until
Their petals droop and drop to scarred wood below
I inhale, exhale
The sweetness of apple blossoms
Drifting on the winds of the gathering storm
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