The last daffodils are dying on my kitchen window sill. Harbingers of cheer and hope, now spent and brown.
Inspired by afternoons at the college field, the kids play baseball in the backyard sun. The crack of the bat rings spring.
We wear our tees. Our noontime walk feels sticky warm as we pick our way over the carpet of fallen magnolia blossoms. Spring peepers sing their frog song.
Planets shine bright in an ink sky and we delight to stand in awe on such a perfect night.
I turned on the air conditioner in the van today.
And it's only March.
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