Do you sense Spring?

Do you smell Spring?
Believe me, she has quite a smell
and everyone knows when she's coming
it's not just of flowers and leaves and horse manure
it's love and life.
You don't pick those up with a nose alone.

Do you taste Spring?
The rain from the heavens
cool and clear, a little sour.
She's disappointed at how dirty our city is
and cried while watering her gardens.

Do you hear Spring?
Not just robins or finches or little magpies
or the rustling of new-born leaves
or perhaps the little squirrels chattering
discussing the latest in the nuts trade
also the children laughing and playing with joy
and the winds singing and dancing with the trees.

Do you see Spring?
She's here among us
in the air, the water, the sounds, the lights
not in space but in time
painting green upon our earth
and taking away some grey
covering us with her warm blanket of clouds
so we might sleep better.

Do you touch Spring?
Her warm, soft fingers caress us
same as she tenderly loves the trees and the flowers
coaxing dormant life awake.
Perhaps when our fingers thaw
and Jack Frost leaves us alone
we can and will.