The trees thrilling in the breeze will shake
Until suddenly shooting forth leaves like a magician
Revealing flowers, and rabbits will be pulled
Out of burrows covered in the smallest fur
trembling and pink as the dawn.

And those old depressions will be sawn
In half, exposing their insubstantial nature.
A few jokes will be told, and digressions,
Hearts will soar and flutter, break perhaps
To the resounding applause on the wind.

by Christopher Woodall

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