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By Alisa Amlika Blanchard Copyright 2011

Late March, early morning
The bounty of snow recedes
Left in tiny dirty mounds
Throughout the field
A reminder of the bitter past 

She steps tenderly in
The richly fertilized topsoil
New steps in the new season,
Competent but still unsure
Of her stride 

Nearby mother watches her calf
Leisurely eating her cud,
Days old, the mother trusts
Her calf has the wisdom
She needs to gain her footing.

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