Today I nearly cried
for the beauty of the garden.
A brief smell of roses,
a whiff of pastoral memory,
then ... off to work --
the torture of completing the unreal.

Today is payday!
I’m to be rewarded with paper
symbolic of precious metal.
Money is a hard priority to shake;
one can’t live on the fragrance of Spring
alone,
but faith asserts
that magic will out.

So, I watch with inspiration
the flowers windblown animation,
and, with the morning dew
not quite dry in my eyes,
I smile.
 
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