I have drunk gulps of warmth suddenly !.
It came with the whiff of rain in a gust of bustling wind and bonked me hard in the heart.
And so I am all full of colors and music and life and warmth and wings and butterflies. Sitting quietly in a quiet windy evening and being Little Jack Horner and myself. While plowing rusted lost treasures up, from where they were buried by Excuses, because of Reasons.

And, yes, they have been found and lost and found, many, many times in summers and winters and autumns and springs and poetry.