I see you, spring,
peeking around the corner,
seeing if we're ready for you yet.
You didn't go too far this year.
My mums still have green at the base,
and the grass never really died this year.
But as the garage door rolled up this morning,
and the pink of the sun-kissed sky spilled in,
I could hear you
in the songs of the birds coming back home.
I could smell you in the rain-soaked grass,
the earthiness floating.
I saw you in the worms that spilled from the grass,
in the buds peeking up through the old mulch,
the first daffodils blooming.
It seems you're back,
so I'm putting away winter:
the coats, the boots, the hoping for a snow-day
(seriously? not even one this year?!).
I'm stretching my arms wide,
ready for cookouts and evenings spent on the front porch,
for birds nests, and remembering what I planted last year.
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