a first breath of spring in the air. or perhaps even summer.
brings back memories through scent and gentle skin-embracings by newfound silken air. a Proust's way of reliving by means of this refreshening, nigh on Nietzschean sky.
hail to all sheepen clouds! sheep sheep sheep interchanging sun for those fearful moments pregnant with the almost despairing hope of a sun returned. and then the sun coming back, lovely shade of nevershade.
a sentimental sigh would not be out of place here.