Winter Lost It’s Grip

Warm days cool nights brought on spring. Daffodils are blooming, wild cherry trees and dogwoods are in bloom. Lawns turned green overnight. On my morning walk I heard a chorus of birds singing. Though on the calendar spring is still days away, the joyful exuberance of life overpowers winter’s cold dreariness.

Poets revel in spring’s delights but none more than, William Wordsworth. In his poem “Lines written in early spring”.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure…