by: Nicole Upchurch
for Eleanor

She believes in perennials
She collects old things
She has patience like a prairie
Reaching up towards monarch wings
She believes in the spring

She believes in perennials
Tries to dig a hole
To lie down with warm memories
But the ground's too hard and cold
She believes in the spring

Pale light awakes me
Another early morn
Two barred owls a-calling
Both distant and forlorn
She believes in...
She believes...
in the spring

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