A wind sways in my pen.

i can feel the springtime 
surging lightly from the soul of the earth.

My senses shifts quietly 
into the transparent skies.

The beautiful is not yet complete, it hangs like a drop of water,
it grows....
it sprouts 
from the silences of my heart.

What is it in the air that you sniff.

sniffing it 
you sniff something pure ....like freedom.

Nature opens her book,

i glimse a page.

i don't dare read them too loud,
too sumptous 
to be disturbed by any 
voices other than the one emitted by her own lips.....     
            
the rustling branches,  
in the early hour of the day break.

the snow 
unmelted on the mountains, 

beneath it 
a carpet of colours are dreaming.

Words flap their wings,
i perceive them 
as they enter into the horizon of my thoughts
engorged in light and silence.