and the early worm is breakfast.

A tiny flower opens wider than wide and takes in the rain and the sun.

Before it loses its green color, the tulip poplar blossom is thrown to the ground by last night’s storm.

Washed white by the rains, the sycamore raises her arms in joy and welcomes the return of the sun.

Hiding underneath the green leaves of the cherry tree.

Here for a brief time, but commanding our attention.

This is how I want to reach my end — with little left undone.

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