Hastening the life force eternal with every breath of clear crisp air that delves between the layers of soot and ash, we awaken to the rise of spirits, morale and kindredness eager to share the splendor of nature’s bounty with tidings of happiness and hope for everything that is new and splendid.
Draconian colors, woo a new cycle of brigadiers heaving with all that is essential to restore the cyclical hum that has slept silently, awaiting the perfect moment of return.
But take for granted, ignore and deprecate, all that is worth having diminishes; falling into the dark, cold spaces of the ages that tick the presence of existence like a dandelion at the hands of a child. Spring.