The sky is a brilliant blue, reflecting the color named so aptly after it, watching indulgently as the clouds play their quiet but violent tug of war.
The trees are proudly flaunting their newly acquired coat of shimmering green leaves, gently swaying to the music of the wind.
The African tulips have disappeared. The rich-red flowers of the Gulmohar are being roused from their sleep, yawning as they prepare for their glorious profusion all over the country. Already, the jacaranda is stretching its lavender wings towards the sky.
Here comes the spring again.
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