Another spring vanished....
A sheet of crocuses singing along the grass alley. White, under trees
still bare. Crocuses dotting the open grass with June gold....
Suddenly a mist of green on the trees, as quiet as thought.... Small
leaves in broad daylight, magic reality, silent at midday amidst the
noise of traffic....
Then full spring for three days. Holding life still, when the dawn mists
drew off the sea and garden and revealed their colour.
Everyone had loved it, independent of other loves. Become for a while
single. Wanting and trying and failing to utter its beauty. Everyone had
had those moments of reality in forgetfulness. Quickly passing. Growing
afterwards longer than other moments, spreading out over the whole
season; representing it in memory....