Folkloric

It's hard for me to imagine,
but I once very much disliked
the whole Springtime season,
so much so
that I actually came to dread it each year.
I thought it was windy, and wet, and changeable,
tiresome and long;
at best it was a necessary evil
on the slide from Winter
toward glorious Summer.

The self who felt this way
could not feel farther
from who I am now.

Now, each Spring
I celebrate the return of the light,
the green growing things
where all was brown and sleeping,
the color and texture and pattern
that turns my garden
into a fairyland,
the birdcalls,
and scents,
and evening sunshine--
I want to hold all of the beauty to my face,
and drink it in.