Curling from the morning teacup – the flowers from last summer’s meadows.
On my body tiny silver needles in the points invisible to the modern busy mind/eye, which is used to darting from one excitement to the next. Slowly they relax me and from the cosy state between being awake and asleep, I listen to the many birds, who have found their homes in the small, lovingly tended urban gardens.
Dad’s words, which make the whole world bask in sunshine. Sprigs of pink blossoms, white blossoms, which make our car fragrant with spring and nectar, with the joy and sweet hope of new beginnings.
Small chocolate bars: one filled with orange, another one with banana cream. Their melting taste even more delicious because my whole being is enveloped in the fragrance of blossoms on the backseat. We drive past forsythia shrubs, magnolias and peach trees in full bloom. The yellows, whites and pinks make me smile despite of myself. In the long winter months our eyes only saw shades of brown and grey. With the sudden splashes of colour all around me, I feel my heart cartwheeling in my chest.
At home we decorate our living room with spring and open the windows, so the house, too, can peacefully breathe.
Small poems of small words but with big meanings, which I can tuck into the pocket of my heart and carry with me, so I can read them whenever I need the consolation of poetic beauty.
Turning off the light, yet despite the dark night I can still see a stork’s nest close to our village. Not just the blossoms, these graceful birds, too, have brought us spring on their wings — and two weeks earlier than last year.