Spring

The sound of baseball
and its rabid fans,
cleats hitting the dirt.

Children in the yards,
all over the neighborhood,
their shrill voices
like the newfound bird calls,
peeping out from the 
wakening branches.

The new zephyrs,
tinged with winter's
old sorrows,
but swiftly warming
over,
summer thrumming
its song in our
veins.