Spring to life.


At last! I don’t have to leave the heated cocoon of my bed to wrap myself in goose bumps anymore. My feet have stopped sending me the icy echo of the ruthless bathroom tiles. The shower curtain has ceased from sticking to my body in an unbearable physics principal. Spring has finally started to sprout!

I open the window and let in the damp warmth and smells announcing a long-awaited renaissance. The winter was hard, despite the milder caress of that child from the equator. I slowly groundhog my nose against the screen. Future buds, small dry grains, appear here and there on anorexic branches. A bird dares to tu-whit tu-who some kind of joy. I grin, greet the feathered friend by imitating him with an accent. He buries his head into his shoulders, finding me a bit quick to roll in vernal delight. The wind is still quite chilly in the morning.

But snow plates have lost the battle, vanishing on the hepatic and sickly grass. The wet soils have put on their bodices a crocus corsage to brighten up their mud and dog feces dresses. Though that old abandoned bicycle still remains with its crooked wheel stuck in a rare and stubborn ice, clinging to the rusty fence.

I can hear the moaning of winter who would rather stay a while, like an unwanted guest that sticks after eleven. In the sky, there is a great battle between lead and gold. You’ve lost, old man, even if you’ve left your devastation all around me. A great spring cleaning is coming that will sweep all sadness and shudders with a zephyr breeze.

I can see soccer balls and short skirts are blooming. It’s too early, but who cares, we will play summer under Jack Frost’s nose. The Easter Eggs have hatched into small bawdy swallows and loons have punctured the clouds with great blows of V’s.

Dust swirls up, salts my lips and stings my eyes with calcium residue. I squint before such sudden clarity. The light enters the retinas but the breasts stay covered and fearful. Although, smiles are now easier because we are hot blooded people in a Nordic country.

Gorge with sap, the maple trees and then, the sexes. Thus begins the parade of strollers and beautiful people on the streets. The boldest terrace themselves with a beer, ending an interminable hibernation.

Like grunting zombies out of their graves, we’ll take possessions of parks and sidewalks. It will be the resurrection of the lust for life. Our collars will blossom, gaping wide, to warm our still shivering torsos.

For tomorrow, we will be on the eve of torrid happiness. Tomorrow will be almost the beginning of the awakening. Tomorrow will be soon incessantly summer.

And then, I’ll be with you again, pale troglodyte, sangria in hand, teeth out and heart in full efflorescence.


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