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It was night, and I was surprised
by winter’s surrender to the new spring.
The albedo of the moon on your skin’s
white. Your black hair tresses
of saffron. A wave of blades vibrating


in the breeze of the evening.
You were wrapped in the shawl of stars.
You disclosed me then so that soft
April blazes in the blanket of clods,
sprinkled with the scent of violets.