in spring,
they are tender,
and so fragile;

in summer,
they are supple,
and smell so fine;

in fall,
they are guarded,
and cloistered;

in winter,
they are brittle,
and withdrawn;

these tiny twigs
lead me,
quite certainly,
through each year.

March 4, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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