SelfPub: This morning for the first time...

This morning I noticed for the first time that the birds were singing again. We've arrived, that is! There is a pleasant sipping in my soul, as if some long forgotten strings have been touched. I love this time when the world has not yet let go of February, but spring is already very close. You feel it along with the morning light, timidly peeking through the window just after seven, it is in the strawberry-pink evening clouds with whipped cream, in the hatching fragile crocuses. And I want to cry for some reason, but out of happiness. Happy to be alive.