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Spring in New England is a matter of opinion.
And so I sit further from my children;
Seeking the warmth of sunshine
Removes me from the shaded playground;
For they who had been so rough,
Guide small strangers down scary slides
With unaccustomed tenderness.
Other mothers comment
on my perfect children
And I mix laughter with awe
That perhaps I have done something right.
To seek the sunlight
Can be to find the vision
Hidden by familiarity.