
From the dark place despair dropped me
may I rise up like oxalis
after the first autumn rain,
push through
wildfire ashes and
soaked cedar bark mulch
into this enticing
day-following-night world.
Let me sip sunlight
and feast on my own green,
unfold cloverleaves as if
the sun would return
tomorrow
and tomorrow
and tomorrow.
All winter long
buried,
I dream of rising up,
of becoming flowers
so yellow I am
joined to that light.
Oh my, always touching my soul.
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