Spring is

spring is something catching
your eye
opening to possibility
a peek of purple
a corner of bare earth
revealing
an invitation.

spring is foreplay.
the waiting
the slow touches
buds tantalizingly split
open flowers
pushing gently then harder

finally unable to wait
spring is letting go
waking up
one morning to avenues
lined with so many shades of green
I can only name
a fraction
lime, emerald, bright...
and here I lose words
only a sense of covering
a warm and comfortable
exhale
after the burst
from death to life
first tentative
then hungry