Scribblings

A pause

I do love the spring time,
I’m not sure what it is.
It might be open windows,
Fresh air, a natural alarm,
Or beetles, birds, bees,
The air is buzzing, yet it’s calm.
It might be in the evening,
When the day is drawing to a close,
No wasted hours, or early nightfall,
It’s productive, and sunset’s warm.
There’s a magic to the springtime,
A sense that all is new.
An idea to achieve something,
With a means to get there, too.

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