dear spring

Your warmth and blooms are nearly always surprising and welcome.  Colors that seem unreal.  The yellow rose bush that nearly glows at dusk.  The lilacs that shake and shiver in their lilacness.

Today I watched ambitious birds fill their beaks with the dog hair I left in the grass from the dog's grooming.  I sort of wanted credit for the incredible cushion I could imagine that hair would provide for their eggs. 

But I know that's silly.  Do you think the tree wants credit for how beautiful its blooms look, fallen all over my counter? 

Soon it will be summer and the blooms will not seem so effortless.  The eggs in the nest will hatch and the tree will be green.  You, spring, will be a lovely memory.  And I'll give you all the credit for that.