the silent spring.

the silent spring.

don’t tell the trees
nor whisper to the buds of leaves
the cherry blossoms peeking
the willow’s pillows breaking
spring is arriving in due time
paying no mind
to the tightening grip of a nation
a world, a contagion
a fastly tightening noose
strangles activity to a halt
sleeping somber in the unsleeping city
the days feel like months
but not a word to the birds
singing now in the morn
nature glides along
as she always will

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