New life.
It is spring and through the barran soil rises tiny blades of grass.
Through the tarmac crocuses push there pretty heads.
The dead looking trees and bushes show signs of new life with unfolding green leaves and tiny flower heads.
The early spring rose that took a battering in the cold wind fades giving room to a new beautiful bud.
How can we not believe in the ressurection and the life Jesus told us about, it is there for us to see. by gentine
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