The  white  butterfly  flew  aimlessly,  sitting  on  the  Prairie  crocus  once  and  on  the  Anemones  next,  going  back  to  the  crocuses  again. The  Robins  and  the  Blackbirds  are  tree  hopping.  It  is  spring  here  in  the  Prairies.  The  season  of  budding  and  blooming,  of  nesting  and  nursing.  The  season  of  a  new  beginning. “Chawlo  garite
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