(are we) sprung

let us run (hard)
it is not yet summer
but the sun
is burning my shoulder
and the clouds hang back
waiting for a sign
all buds bursting

let us not (give up)
stay between walls of ivy
each caveat they hurl
weighs tons–up against
daffodils in your sunglasses
and tulips–and rose oil
dabbed behind my ears

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