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Written in Motion

At the start of each spring,

I’m reminded of all I forgot.

How she keeps her promise

to return all glowing green

speaking the language

of plentitude and lush.

How the trumpeting force

of forsythia heralds her arrival

until the saccharine scent

of lilacs takes over and fills

the air with Bubblicious fun.

These are the thoughts

that accompany me

as I peddle and huff

my way up the steep ascent

of this stubborn,

stretched-out hill.

I hastily inhale sweet puffs

of apple blossoms

and rising smoke

from backyard fires

coddled by rings of stone.

Momentum takes me towards

the downward arc

of a well-earned descent

and I submit to speed

with wolf-howling delight.

Mouth open, tongue dangling

tasting the flavor of smooth,

insouciant joy like a little one

licking ice cream between fits

of messy giggles.

- Lauren Taub Cohen


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