From the corner of my gaze, I catch the spurts of newest pine-growth
Tender, softer than most
Like a lump of rising dough
Knead-ful hands will make it soon grow
And forge this Spring life into a Summer’s feast
Of freshly baked goods
A display of leaves and bark and trees and dawn
All spread out on this table
In these bakery-woods and beyond
anthony forrest
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