The first bright glorious Sunday of spring, muted The passing of a dear friend casted A long shadow over TooGood Pond In spite of the sun Remembrance of past Easter walks Where are the buds, the new life of spring All I saw were trees dead Branches broken Trunk split Remains of the ice storm She loved the outdoors I remember the birds she fed The spring flowers she captured And the mountains she climbed That she was going to climb with me And the rhododendrons that would be along our paths And so, I know there's life anew somewhere In the depths of the pond Beyond the tall grass Like our reflections It will emerge Muted But slowly return
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