Voicemail in March
by Candace Armstrong

I heard the sunshine
          in her voice on the phone.
A pink wind blew
          where yesterday’s rain left
          purple and green rainbows in puddles.

The achingly blue sky pushed shrouds
          of clouds, beyond white, to the horizon.
Freshly turned soil smelled
          whole-wheat toast brown.

Mom, she said, it’s spring
          and I’m in love!



 

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