The pressure building in the sky makes my head ache and shift. I feel it in my eyes. It is a word, unspoken, on the lips of the sky.
But is it really a storm? Is it disruption or is it renewal?
But how you look at the same moody sky changes everything.
Under its brooding brow lies new sprigs of spring. Fresh air and a softness is there too.
New sprouts are there.
Just waiting for their moment to blossom and burst forth in a riot of colour and fragrance.
If you stop with me. And sit for a bit.
You will see it too.
That is hope, my loves.
It is all waiting there for you.