Just for an hour
on a Spring morning,
give up being right.
The earth won't disappear.
You will.
Not being of the world
refreshes the meadow.
Just for an hour,
or even the time
it takes to breathe,
allow the golden
swamp cabbage,
the shy forest
trillium to fill
your absence with joy.
Be irrelevant.
Let the snowdrops
flower without you.
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