Our days have warmed up nicely.
New grass and flowers are beginning their journey to awake.
Songbirds have returned, and there's a nightly croaking of a frog heard at the tiny pond.
For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins:
The days dividing lover and lover,
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover