Waiting for the sun

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Don’t cry, little flower, the sun
has not abandoned you
nor the wind forsaken you.
They only hide, shy and wary
behind impatient clouds
stretched too thin across
the horizon. Like any storm,
this too will come to pass,
and in the wake will dance
a lively breeze on fingers
sun-tipped and anxious
for flight, as intricately lain
as even the most delicate
of summer butterfly wings.

(dtn)

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