by Sara Teasdale
The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows twitter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree–
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.
Every spring for the past few years this poem has called out to be read and reread, read aloud, shared and treasured. I keep meaning to memorize it. Perhaps it will happen naturally as it accompanies me through April after April.
I do see signs, though.
…there was a swath of green grass before me as I turned a corner while walking the dog in the rain
…there are birds excited to be traveling through the skies bringing their colourful mating plumage to our bird seeds scattered on the deck
…there are sprouts along the south wall of the house, tulips and hardy perennials peeping out to see if seasons have changed
…the robins and other songbirds have added thrilling melodies to accompany the staccato ‘chirp’ of the hearty sparrows – making the world seem three dimensional again after the flat soundscape of winter, making us throw open the windows and let the world in