She always loved the very end of April. The birds sang pretty songs and the snow had all melted away. Outside the cars whined and the sun shone vibrant shades of yellow down from the heavens. The breeze blew the wind chimes bringing about the loveliest of melodies. The bugs weren't out and being bothersome yet and the sky was the brightest tinge of blue. Every plant was blooming and she was too.
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Querencia
Poetry=many very short stories and quotes= querencia (n) a place from which one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home, the place where you are your most authentic self
