Comes the day the first greenish leaf
Appears on my old pomegranate tree
Tiny as an infant's fingernail
Emerging from a grave
My gnarled tree still hung
With a few dead fruit
The dried blood of wounds
Cracked open by their seeds
Comes the second day
A second leaf deepens
That reddish glow
That reddish glow
Destined for the flowers
And for all I know right now
A third day must be coming
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