When spring unfolds her cerulean fabrics, every budding limb drinks in the essence, a timeless offering. The fragrance of blossoms swells like a secret song, so the earth writes to the sky.

Against the backdrop of a hawthorn’s blush, I find the love letters of bees, in the warm breath of honey, in every languid hum.

Old stones collect dew, as laughter spills, from a brook, where the spirits gather, and the grass kneels in awe.

This, my love, is where life dances, in the wild embrace of spring.

• Eugène Guillevic