Long rains - that's the real start of Spring.
Everywhere you look - near or far-
Everything is fresh and new.
The cold grey mountain takes on delicate colors.
The stone steps os washed not a speck of dust remains.
he Willows have decide on their sole purpos:
To soothe your eyes with beauty.
The flowers are still sleeping.
They haven't opened their lips to reveal anything.
There's extra grass growing at the edge of the steps.
It's so eager to please. When you step on it,
It yields gently, then springs back,
As if it had merely boweb to you.