A time for kissing babies
for grabbing at (and missing) wriggling soft-furred puppies
for raising the head and catching the secret chirps of the new-come-home birds.
A time for pink ribbons
for white teas
for cold sweet desserts.
A time to laugh with head thrown back to the fragile-blue sky
to change the sweaters for bare-armed glory
to peel back the old layers and limber up the rusty places.
A time for crashing into new life
for repolishing old friendships
for dipping toes into adventure and romance.
Promises kept
despair vanquished
passion rekindled.
Hope itself, manifested.
Spring is fantastic, I'll give you that, but it's no autumn or winter. Even so, it's in my top four.
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