A cacophanal burst of colors arriving first in slow motion, Green pushing through white and brown and gray Joined by tentative flaxen yellow, then accelerating bronze and turquoise, Suddenly ferocious maroon and crimson. The cardinal perches high in the branches of a tree, Proclaiming his insistent message to everyone in the neighborhood: "We were sealed away, sheltered and hidden, and now we are here!" It is birth and rebirth, Not metaphorical or philosophical but literal, Forcing its way into our senses through every bit of our perception. Starting with sight and sound through scent, taste and touch, It becomes part of us. Not everything is possible in spring, I think, Until I turn around and maybe it is Just.
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