Yan Song

There’s no need to mourn the passing of spring. Though the spring sky shifts from sun to rain, and the blossoms fade until only tiny green apricots remain, stirring an involuntary sadness, the swallows return home, darting back and forth, east and west. They flutter in pairs beneath the spring rain, carrying mud to feed their young and settling on bamboo poles. Their cheerful song follows us. What a beautiful, poetic scene in prose.

Premise: