Spring is providing everything it had promised in all years before. Renewal. Birth. Intrigue. It is painting our world with the never before. Insect and chasing mammal–reminders of their hiding. Cotton-like cloud, passing before azure sea. Whisper of warm, cry of brisk. Rain and hoary low.

Peeking of yellow, smiling with green–reaching higher places than their own. Nesting of flyers within towering brawn. Pastels adorn in eve and morn. Easy tunes in distant places, while succulent nosh carries the nose.

And, you and I, baby, we sit on our blanket of golden fashion. We give and take, with each other in mind. Passing our time. Providing for the ones that haven’t seen as many.

Oh, how we take you for granted, Lord of life. Maker. We corrupt the simplistic, yet byzantine. We lean on our own, excluding yours.

Unfolding animation. Breath, in essence. We spring again.


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