What if there were four seasons, and one of them was called "Spring"?
What if odd colorful things called flowers suddenly appeared in abandoned fields, forgotten creekways, and even between the sheets of cracked concrete?
What if cool drizzle and warm air blended, and birds sang and butterflies fluttered?
Nobody would believe in it. They know that it's always winter. Winter is all they remember.
But what if everything was green, and hope peeked out from the understory?
