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 Michael H. Levin: Poems and Prose  

APRIL AGAIN . . .

. . . blossoms brushed from bent limbs

in my hair, tangled with sweat

and pollen; the heat of first mowing.


Air tender and urgent

as moments we shared

on a night-lit stone porch along

turned Oxford meadows, when April


was dawn in Eden, first and new.

House wrens burble their down-song,

screened by poplars. Overhead, a

cardinal, flush with attitude,


follows my back and forth

curiously, scanning for seeds.

2017 Bethesda Urban Partnership/Arts & Entertainment District Poetry Contest; published at www.bethesda.org

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