Spring

Spring. Brushed with disbelief and a raised eyebrow. Is it possible now? And I’m scared to hope…

But yes. The first catkins shyly raise their fluffy heads towards the sun, which also more boldly shines in the sky. And that scent. It cannot be confused with anything else. Spring smells like rebirth, youth, forgotten songs that suddenly come to mind with a few notes. It smells like water and rain, like jumping over a puddle and throwing the hat off your head for the first time in a very long time.

Is it spring? Woman of weak faith…