Burst

And in an instant, how it all is transformed. Where did these buds come from? Surely they weren't there yesterday in the cold March rain. We run around the playground with our jackets open and stare into the sun without reservation. Every branch is teeming with sticky little clusters of Life in the making; I awoke to the sound of birds months gone.

How simple it is, the change. Life rushes so quickly back into my veins, into every fiber of my pale, weary body, and I feel it tickle my nerves as it comes. The heavy eyelids and tired limbs seem months away, the dark corners where I let my soul huddle through the dark months are long gone, and all that's left are dust bunnies along the walls, exposed by the bright light streaming in.

I grab a dishrag, find some soap, and I set about scouring the remnants of winter, from my heart.