Here we stand in winter, waiting at the door. I checked, the handle it’s locked. Though the souls of our feet are on the cold ground, the air flowing from under that door warms.
Can you even imagine what the door to spring looks like? I would have to say mine is solid glass. What I see through that glass door is a perfect spring day filled with that crazy bright green color of water-soaked grass and waves of pale yellow tulips. A baby bunny gnaws at the tulip stem, above trees explode in white and pink. I am pressed against that glass door, making face prints like a child.
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