life is beautiful... again, is it not?

the bed of pale frosted grass, the bright green footsteps on the frosted grass, the gleaming sun in the east, the shimmering reflection of the sun-gold on the melting dew, the mix of the warmth of the basking sun and the morning chill, the inexpressible feeling when the baking sun sprawls on the skin, the bright early evenings, the sprightly light and crisp evening air, the sunset that you perceive but not see, the vacillating twilight, the defeated dusk, the vapors dying to deform as dew, the rising vapors falling as dew, the dark deep shivering nights, the clothes that snug you, the freezing ice needles around the ear lobes, the deserted dazing roads, the warmth under the thick covers, the requisite respite, the fresh feet that feels the cold floor tiles, the hot ablution, the vapor on the mirror, the words on the glass, the rejuvenated life, the rediscovered passion, the regained love, the resurgent sprightliness, the words revelatory of good omen.