The rain glides down the still bare branches
of the trees, washing them clean for springtime.
The fragrance of spring is in the air now, even though
on days like these, bathed in clouds, the world
looks as much like November as it does late March.
Until you notice the buds bursting open on the trees.
Until you spot the daffodils’ leaves rising from the soil.
Until you notice how this wet, cold air
is brimming with birdsong.
Then you know.