The breeze, invisibly passes by my face.
Jonquils bob and dart while held in place.
The kid next door pops the ball and makes his Dad go chase.
Two bishops playing chess, birds warbling in their niche
en garde with glissandos and their gibberish.
Just a wink from chill and snow
now sprouting up from just below.
The thing about the spring – it comes in slow and sings.
The green a resonance of whim.
The edges of the sidewalk closely trimmed
Sounds of traffic ebb and wash like tides displaced.
The breeze, invisible- passing through this space.