There are crocuses on Leaman Street,
And the trees are full of birds,
And the trees are full of birds,
Little birds,
Dozens of them singing
Their little bird hearts out.
White crocus,
Slender white points,
Not yet in bloom.
On the other side
Of a picket fence.
And there are three seagulls,
Soaring over the houses,
Screeching loud enough
To beat the band.
Earlier today,
There were four
Snow squalls
That obscured the harbour
And hid the grass.
But my afternoon walk
Was in clear sun,
Under cloudless sky,
And I didn’t really need
A hat
Or gloves,
Though I wore both.
So Spring is more
Than an idea,
Or
A date
On the calendar.
Spring is starting to awaken.
~DE BA UE
kafkaestblog 
