Norwich: Spring

was late. As we waited
for milder days, hail
came, a storm
before calm.

Then sprung longer days,
deeper shadows,
turning shy poppies from
eyes of the night
into blossomed blood.

Sleep needs new tactics,
its turf reclaimed. Sun
nourishes as rest denies,
unfurling violet-lined eyes.

New leaves emerge
in darkness. I
now tap and not tread,
dance,  not dread.

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