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when the sky clears uptrading gray skies for sky blueand the brisk spring airskips over your tongue,purple, pink, blue, red petals unfurl,slowly,sweet honeysuckle filling the airwith the heady scent of beautyuntil the petals stretch outto its neighbors,gently touching hands,as the blue skies turn darkerand the petals retreat,waiting for the next morningto blossom again