Marjorie Buettner
Cycle of Life
These spring nights are filled with the scent of blossoms opening. I can
almost hear them in the dark while waiting for the promise of fireflies.
Soon fish will be spawning on the lake and another cycle will have begun.
I see the wide, white arc of their splashing bodies glimmer in the
morning sun, catching life mid-air.
my granddaughter's skin
as soft as butterfly wings
or rose petals
alive now against all odds
I bow to the gods in her
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