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I took spent coffee grounds out to the compost bin; they steamed in the wind from the lake.

Snowflakes like cold white daisies rode in, clinging, melting.

A squirrel paused, its tail beaded with the damp; where, in April, had it found an old apple?

Behind it, the spring's first tulip sent up an orange-red flare.

Wishing you many happy returns of the day, spring mornings, coffee, squirrels, snow, and flowers.

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