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Our speaker, a widow, compares her sorrow to her yard, making note of how the new growth of spring seems different at this point in her life – colder and isolating. She mentions how long she lived with her husband, then quickly changes the subject to her description of the flowers on the plum tree, the cherry tree, and the bushes in her yard. The bright colors of the flowers, she tells us, are not as strong as the grief she feels. She no longer takes joy in them. Then she mentions that her son told her about a place out in the meadows, where there were trees with white flowers. She declares that she would like to go out there and sink into the marsh.

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