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Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Sonnet CXXXV

The seasons change so very rapidly.
At times they snow; at times they laugh and shine.
So young and fickle, always freshly free.
A friend the same, reliable, on time.
They never bore, but dance so gingerly.
They swirl around my calendar in lines,
and mark my life in intervals of ease.

The seasons entertain me so all day:
they organize my life and toy with it,
they run outside and with me gladly play,
they bite or tease or slap or prance or hit.
The seasons batter me in playful games,
until I laugh, admitting they are “it”.

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A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!