Any day now the leaves will return, colour bound to fill our lives, relieve our eyes of all we have been forced to take in as winter has, and does, dull our vistas.
The ugliness of it all, or most of it, may seem less degrading. Spring anon, warmth of the sun and seasonal refrain, time and again, our lives may appear more normal.
As it should be, any day now, overly familiar bleak terrains that encompass our soul will speak differently in the sense of soon and silence of transformation.
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