Green again.
Spring again.
All through winter, through the snow I waited for the new season to come and warm us again. And now all I want is for the world to go back to sleep because I don’t feel like getting up now. Can’t the bare branches stay brown, the fields remain fallow? Keep us in the dirt and dreariness of dormancy.
But no. The world turns. We do not die. We continue. And even though we feel dead inside, the new life refuses to be kept underground.
Daffodils force their heads out of the cold earth and cry out, “Spring! Spring! Sing of Spring!”
What courage they have. What fierceness.


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