The world softens in small degrees,
long before we notice.
A patch of ground loosens its grip,
a single branch remembers color,
and the air carries a warmth
that feels like a secret returning home.
I’ve walked through months of stillness,
believing the cold was permanent,
believing the frost inside me
was something I had to keep.
But the season shifts without asking,
and the heart follows,
slowly at first,
then all at once.
Light lands differently
when winter steps aside.
It doesn’t shout.
It doesn’t rush.
It simply opens a door
you forgot was there.
And in that doorway,
I feel the thaw —
the quiet release
of everything I held too tightly.
The world breathes again,
and so do I.
Spring doesn’t promise perfection.
It promises possibility.
A chance to rise
from the coldest parts of myself
and step into something new,
something warm,
something alive.
When winter lets go,
I remember
that I can too.