i'd forgotten what spring feels like
after long, fat winter lying dormant
prone, or on the couch
but not out there
not up there
not through there
now i remember
with birds singing and the breeze puffing dandelions in the gentle sunlight
summer is the exhaustion,
not
from life and survival
but
from running, from jumping, from climbing
sore fingers, sore back, sore feet
all bandaged and plastered with smiles
adrenaline and elation
and the faint hope
that this summer will be just like spring
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