The snow is gone, the days are long, and there’s a warm feeling coming on.
A warm feeling inside and out, like the smell of fresh grass is hard rain in a drought.
A drought of the mind and soul, that eats at everything new and old, and leaves you feeling empty and cold.
But now the cold is gone, chased off by the trees and grass and sun, and the sound of birds on the breeze.
And though the sun brings with it trouble and fears, there’s still joy in the wind for those with ears to hear.
Ears to hear the birds and bees and rustle of the trees, and eyes to see how beautiful the world could be.
To see the renewing of things once dead, to see the sun shining on a world brand new, to see the beauty wherever you tread.
But tread softly, so as not to disturb the peaceful stillness of this new world and its smells.
The smell of the trees and new grass and dirt and the feeling of an old book in hand, seems to me the convergence of all good in the world.
Birds chirp, bees buzz, and a soft wind blows against my skin.
It’s springtime in Appalachia
And if you were to ask me about its beauty, I don’t believe I’d know where to begin.
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