Today I am so brave.
I will go out and meet
the earth, follow
the warm pattern of light across
the white forest floor, careful not to step
on shadows that criss-cross
the back of mother spring.

What is ever green is breathing
ever tenderly, lifting and falling.  
And the shadows breathe too.
I have seen a single tall plant
sway like this, independent of wind,
waved as if someone were hiding in the grasses
whose only job was to announce
the location of one splendid, milky green stem.

Soon there will be a roar.
Birch trees will top themselves
in green explosions.
The dense mass of summer wind
will arrive in the clearing with the power
of a million animated leaves behind it.
Stars will stop staring,
find their voices, and arrange
themselves into Constellation Summer.
Everyone can feel it coming.
Today you turn to the window
and wonder what has caught
your eye.

It is the breath of spring.
The people in their city beds and the
the bears in their dens moan in their sleep
because of it.