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Signs of worry and hope as seasons slowly change
Timid comes the spring, sighing with unease,
Longer days warm the soil another few degrees.
Daffodils arise, renouncing my disease.
Sensing signs of hope, a rose nearby perceives
Like me, it's unprotected, beset by inner thieves.
Begged for intervention, I kneel and roll my sleeves.
Reaching under branches, my hand and glove are torn.
Tiny drops of blood reveal a sharp, tenacious thorn.
Intersecting planes of experience conform.
Pausing in the moment, an introspective one,
I review the basics needing to be done:
Fertilize and prune, re-energize with sun.
Staring down my cancer, I ponder what's ahead.
Fully radiated, trimmed, and chemically re-fed,
Will I savor summer's warmth, escape the winter's dread?