What would you love more than the joy of morning nine o'clock in spring days?
Just when the warmth greets hello to the chill the night has left, waving goodbye to the frozen fingertips and the calls of the seemingly-too-friendly blankets over the crumpled bed sheets.
Just when the sun paints its color to the portrait on your window, just when you cringe your eyes in delight to the growing brights. And never, never more eager to be out and thereabout, dancing your steps below the blue sky.

What would you love more? If any, wishing one a good day might be.