The Mask of Spring Whispers

On the night of the first full moon after the equinox, in the heart of the forest, where the ancient weeping willow leans over the mirror pool, you can find a Mask of Spring Whisper. It is not made by the hands of a magician. It was woven by nature itself from flexible twigs, cobwebs and delicate petals of primroses.
 
The one who wears it acquires the greatest gift — understanding the language of awakening life. The rustle of leaves turns into wise speeches, the murmur of the stream into a fascinating ballad, and the romp of waking insects into funny stories. You can ask the snowdrop what he dreamed about, breaking through the ice crust, or find out from the old maple what secrets his sleeping buds keep.
 
But the mask does not last forever. With the first ray of the sun, it withers away, turning into a handful of dew and last year's leaves, reminding you that you don't need charms to hear the soul of the forest. It is enough to slow down, listen and become a part of this quiet, eternal celebration of life.