Springtime

 I saw a tree as bare as bones, 

and sought to make it grow. 

But I missed that it was winter there, 

inside the tree, within its lair. 

For in the world of my own, 

it was already summer in tone;

thus I missed the wondrous state, 

when the tree began to grow of late, 

and found a sight of great repose

when I turned and saw the tree had rose

above the station I had assigned, 

finding Winter and Summer close aligned

In Spring.

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