A warm wind is brewing.
The traveling force
of green pastures, flowers,
and the sweet, over-powering
smell of honeysuckle is
rushing
to meet us. A brighter sun
travels faster than a mother
to greet her wandering child.
A cooler, refreshing rain
will cover us, blanket the
ground,
drowning us in the bloom,
the rebirth. Windows will
open,
and we will all expose
ourselves
to the tantalizing danger of
the sun.
The Earth will start to heal,
to repair the anguish of a
raging Winter,
inspiring us all
to forgive,
to see each other plainly.
And, in turn, our hearts
will heal.
Our souls will start an
eruption
of creativity,
the type of thinking and loving only done
when Spring comes. It will sweep us away,
It will clean us. We will
learn living
through it. Glimpses of
hummingbirds,
will teach us the meaning of
a companion.
The resurgence of a lost vibrant color
will teach us restoration.
Renewal.
Spring will give us
no option.
Bliss.
It's brewing.
I can feel it.
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