In the fields, there are dustings of flowers like confetti left over from a party, sprinkled over the land so randomly, yet beautiful in their chaos. 

Leaves slowly unfurl from their cocoons, caterpillars turning into butterflies only to fall again next year. 

And I saw a bear cub the other day, fresh out of the den, scared of the world hiding behind its mother as it lifts its nose to the wind to smell its new world. 

Sun pours down, bright and warm in the spirit of springtime as bumblebees frolic in the dandelions, who bear their bright yellow manes with pride in their abundance. 

In Springtime, life has returned, new yet so old in the evolutionary cycle of millennia. 




14 years old

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