Spring blossoms from her delicate rest. Birds reform, coloured spirits fly back into their wings.
Little flowers rise and rejoice, for their sun is back to life; grinning, glimmering. Baby buds bow to the majesty of The Ritual.
Whispers from the wind's echoes of the seeds that dare to grow. Echoes that speak of the bravery that shells the seeds' gentle beginnings.
In this world of pulchritude, where fairness flags danger, the grace of Earth's Growth knows true beauty.
As though each cell carries a letter, that will soon become a story. Sweet writes, cursive romance, the Tale of Two Red Roses.
Mountains reach for the skies; green with serenity. Waves leap with loyalty to embrace the shores; an eternal love affair.
The glow of the ocean's soul lingers in the shortest night. The moon creeps in, to be closer to our hearts for they've all become warmer, flooded with affection.
The rains are kinder, a light drizzle if you will. Hear The Ritual, see it. Feel it, Spring is coming.