There are days
when I believe in
the reconciliation of old walls,
in stone fences giving up
to the weather,
when calla lilies
are white flags
and all the grass bends
to the southern wind,
days when doors open,
the table set for tea,
telegrams arriving
that say I am loved
just as I am,
when I loosen my grip
on the cup, set it down,
turn up my palms,
and they bloom like crocuses.
-Jean Janzen
contributed by Robin
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