Birch seeds cover the snow this morning, speckling the white ground like freckles on sun-kissed skin.
The seeds have little wings and tails, stretching out like birds flying across the snow. As I stand looking down at the wash of seeds, a flock of birds lights in on the birch branches above.
Their song reminds me of lace somehow, a high pitched chorus sifting through bare branches down to my ears, and suddenly it feels like spring is arriving.
How fitting to find these two, birch seeds and birds, scattering themselves out along the world on the first day of spring.