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Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad I'm gone.
And yet - maybe not now, but soon
the landscape will explode with fragrance and color -
perfumed air from flowering crabapple dressed in bridal white.
Yellow jonquils sprout up wild along MacArthur Woods -
purple crocus tries to keep up like a little brother.
Rainbows of tulips on parade on Michigan Avenue.

I remember waiting at Deerfield station for the next outbound
home - my favorite station on the commuter line. Crabapple blossoms
plucked by the breeze, caught in my hair, I savored the scent.
Lost in the latest Boyle bought at the Barnes and Noble
two blocks away; trusty, bottomless canvas shopping bag at my feet
filled with my "yuppie oatmeal" and Numi tea, I'd wait -
then "all aboard" in hopes of a window seat to enjoy the view.

Riding towards home, I'd trade the book in favor of the scenery -
the route slicing its way through Middlefork Savanna full of trees
still bare enough to see deer between the branches staring me down
as I intrude on their serenity. My favorite bridge appeared 
just before I'd reach Libertyville station, beautiful and quietly
arched over a small fork of the Des Plaines, the same white blossoms 
gracefully skittered across the wooden walkway -

Spring in Chicagoland.
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