Spring is a whispered desire beneath a teetering globe, to bear fruit, to give birth, to perpetuate all that lives and teases the earth to push up its dormant hopes and let them sprout and mature to harvest. Warming rays grasp at the heavy garments of winter and urge them to be put aside. Limbs reach for the sun and eyes softened by winters gray squint againt the brilliance.
Spring can be such a tumultuous time. The atmosphere is unstable and unpredictable, indecisive and sometimes wildly so. The season shifts into the sameness of summer, the sun seems reluctant to state itself, preferring to peek demurely from behind a jagged cloud. Dense with moisture now the sky is a recalcitrant offspring impervious to humanity’s please for mercy. All now awaken to the new music of a spring morning.