One April morning in Loimaa, Finalnd.

If a year was a day.... then spring
would be morning.

The slow thaw, the heavy head....
rising gently into the day.

One morning, meandering between
quiet pines.... overlooking sleeping
cabins, and murmuring lakes.
The covers are slowly pulled back....
ready for the year to begin.

. . . . . .

This project was made for the publication Ante Meridiem by Tide Press