Light did spread from corner to corner like a blanket above her. But it also touched in and out of tall trees like a thread.

Day was sharp, but the shadows were soft, and she liked the way they curved around into night.

There was a strange moistness to the air, a little like tears, that was sometimes warm and sometimes cold. She could not tell if it was winter or summer or something in between. But there was a murmur all around, of bees and trees, of showers and flowers, of tadpoles and tide pools and crinkly grass.

The murmur turned into a name. Spring!

–Jane Yolen, Eeny, Meeny, Miney Mole

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