I can hear the ever so frigidly cold river, trickling in the near distance, as the lumps are released from the strength of the sun beaming down firmly on its stone-like chunks.
I can feel an unimaginable sense of pure, meaningful joy, as I witness recently dormant forms of life regaining possession within my core and throughout the magnificent environment that gratefully surrounds my soul.
I can see its melody, spreading its roots to the tips of the trees and the grass underneath the fallen snow that desperately remains and willingly refuses to go.
I can catch the birds hearing the song, which declares the switch of season, along with me, as they dance to its beat, hot-stepping through the trees.
I can laugh at the bug, as it awkwardly wobbles its wings past my steaming coffee; seeming entirely out of place and completely confused by the drastic change of weather around me.
I can chase away the bland colours that clouded the sky, and forced me to look down in dismay, as they suddenly transform into the shades of the wax we would pick from the box at an earlier stage.
I can compare eternal winter days to having no sharpener in sight and craving to scribble with the pretty colours that have lost the points of their lead. I must rather select from the multitude of neutral boredom instead.
I can enjoy now the smell of the giving green and the beautiful blue, and the odour of earth reconnects with me too. The black it all flickers from heat up above like a somber-type red that is wrapped up in love.
I can feel the impression that children rejoice, as the laughter escapes from their big tiny voice. A smile appears on my pale, freckled face, as their youth redirects me to a much younger place.
I can hope that the current of spring it is here, and I’ll sip from my cup as it floods through my ears.