Solo songs celebrating the demise of the long, Dark Silence.
Fog-white greetings laughing through the fading threats of thinning ice.
Sunrises lingering now to revel and rejoice,
Renew and restore,
Summoning the stories archived and buried carefully for future readings:
Delivery on promises vowed at the slow closing of Autumn’s eyes.
Spring: “It is time.”
SmoothStones 
In Illinois there seems to always be one day which marks the arrival of Spring. I’m not sure what it was. Perhaps a certain scent in the air? When I lived there, I looked forward to that day each year, not quite knowing when it would arrive, but sensing it quite definitively when it happened.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dandelions, a suddenly warm sun and the humid scent of lawn fertilizer: Spring.
LikeLike
That’s nice
LikeLiked by 1 person