I hesitate before I step outside.
Part of me is shivering with anticipation.
Another part is wondering how I will stand,
peering into the face of yet another proof
of spring’s grand yes to joy. A bird’s song
pulls me out, and I walk across the slope
as if I am approaching the gates of heaven,
the morning’s grass dewy beneath my feet
and glistening in the sun. The air is warm.
A hundred birds sing from the woods.
Then there I am, peering down at a choir
of narcissus that looks like a troupe of angels.
And their silent song floats its gladness
into my heart, and I sing along. Yes. Yes.