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Waiting for the Maple to Leaf Out
First there is the premonition of green.
Imposed over bare branches in the
Still April air, exuded by memory
And will, oozing through small scars.
Next there is the idea of green
Swirling currents of expected color
Disturbing the air. Tugging impatiently
At stubborn buds. A cloud without form.
Then there is the aura of green
A crown floating. A gift not quite given.
Finally there is the reality of green
Each leaf an epiphany opening
Into spaces barely able to contain them
Redeeming desire. Exchanging the
Wish for the open act.
First there is the premonition of love...
- Nathan M. Simon
Nathan M. Simon is a psychoanalyst.
His poetry will appear in New Millenium
Writing and a memoir in CCAR Journal.
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