Between now and spring

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Drip, drop, drip.
April rain fingers my face
Cold and dreary.

In my garden
tiny blooms sing their song:
“We are spring!”

Today’s poem is in the form called a “lune.”  Think of it as an English form of haiku, where each stanza has  three words in the first line, five in the second, and three in the last. I love forms with artificial constraints like this — they force me to think much harder about how the words work together.
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