When the wind comes to you from a place of perfume and possibility,
Caressing your face with promises,
And
hugging you like a benediction.
When the day arches its fingertips a little further to the east and west each day.
Where flowers burst out to sing in colour,
Where lilac cascades of wisteria are paused in still-life waterfalls,
And the hum of bees is constant, joyful and preoccupied.
Where clouds of tiny flying bugs without names burst up from long grasses when disturbed,
And new leaf growth perches on winter-bare branches like hundreds of green butterflies.
Caressing your face with promises,
And
hugging you like a benediction.
When the day arches its fingertips a little further to the east and west each day.
Where flowers burst out to sing in colour,
Where lilac cascades of wisteria are paused in still-life waterfalls,
And the hum of bees is constant, joyful and preoccupied.
Where clouds of tiny flying bugs without names burst up from long grasses when disturbed,
When the blackbird returns with new, more complex melodies,
Where ladybirds can be spotted walking along grass stems, red against green.
And new leaf growth perches on winter-bare branches like hundreds of green butterflies.
When your senses are awake, eager and hungry.
For life in spring.
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