Spring

The grasshopper clicked his head rubbing his hands together, he rolled his eyes and wriggled his body. Spring was upon them, its brilliance unfurling in the tendrils of the guava leaves, in slivers of green shards that defied the dry brown patches on the ground, where the ants still toiled and trundled in long trains carrying their freight cargoes while he, the master of spring, frolicked in grandiose; he flung one bright green leg to reach for the sun, snooted down at the unromantic ants on whom was lost the magic of creation, and leapt into the realm of green.

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