What is this light I think I see?
Is it perspective spiraling in
The way that some things spiral out?

The Spring is beautiful and bright,
The air is warming with the day;
And colors, broken from the light
Are everywhere to point the way

To what is known, but never seen,
To what, in all of us, is there:
It may seem distant, in the dark,
But obvious in open air —

What is this season early come?
Is it a message from a past
We never really left?