Almost
pregnant
of
sunlight
and
of
an
illuminated
essence,
my
Spring
walks,
towards
a
waiting
Summer.
If
November
is
just
coming,
I
know
that
December
won’t
be
long,
the
weather
smells
of
change.
The
calendar,
linking
day
and
night,
never
misses,
never
errs,
because
it
lives
in
certainty.
There
will
always
be
a
today,
there
will
always
be
a
tomorrow.
What
isn’t
present,
is
past,
what
isn’t
past,
is
future.
How
wonderful
is
a
spring
Summer!
Wanderlino
Arruda
