Quiet Joy

I've got Norah Jones playing in my head, her full dusky voice drawing out soft melodies against a quiet piano line, with that lazy jazz feel to it. The sun is shining gently outside, behind the thick gray of an overcast sky, and the word is just warm enough that I'm satisfied. The air is full of sounds, of people walking, talking, reacquainting themselves with the outside world.

The birds are whistling their own tunes, though it disturbs not that in my head, and the world just seems to be moving at its own pace for a while. Winter has been banished, and spring has rushed in like a juggernaut, turning everything to lush greens, richer browns, and scattering in its path tiny wildflowers. Now it is slowing down, taking time to carefully tend its tiny children, cultivating an air of lazy bliss and quiet joy.