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In mid-winter
It’s hard to remember
what it feels like
to go outside in short sleeves,
the sunshine
sitting on your skin
like a physical weight.

It seems like a false memory:
surely it never gets that warm.

Then the spring
is cold and wet and long
and the memory still fragile,
until a day in late June
when the sunshine
wraps you like a coat,
heavy on your bare skin.

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