Jennifer WatkinsA sun that burns an April day
the budding maple, in August may,
reap the mead of rays and rain
stretch lithe arms towards azure domain
sink deep roots within a fertile soil
toughen bark for the elemental toil
a seedling now in springtime warmth
suckles promise of a summer forth
accompanied with growth and age
lies waiting along a narrow stage
to flaunt his leaves of pride and green
before the brisk of Autumn purloins the scene.
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