(no subject)
I know it is spring, not from my clothing becoming too hot, or the door to outside staying open with no discomfort, or from more greenery underfoot, but because the birdsong is burbling around my head in the evenings. I don't know the birds' names.
I enjoy seeing the pale, small blossom springing out of tangled wood, and drops of water hanging on the branches after rain, catching the light of a grey sky. It is a cliche to enjoy these, but they have been doing it for many years, and I still enjoy them.
I enjoy seeing the pale, small blossom springing out of tangled wood, and drops of water hanging on the branches after rain, catching the light of a grey sky. It is a cliche to enjoy these, but they have been doing it for many years, and I still enjoy them.