The First Rain of Spring

In the morning I catch the breeze as I round the corner through the alley and open up on the harbor. From its salty mist I can tell it comes from the sea. This far-off breeze brings with it a healthy rainstorm, and spring is not far behind.

The dirt is saturated, but still the ground soaks up the water greedily, the first green shoots of daffodils showing their tips in a nearby garden. This rain is cleansing, washing away the stagnation of winter. Windchimes are ringing on porches and birds are chirping noisily in the trees.

My town is not a concrete jungle, but a brick wilderness. Streets both paved and unpaved weave together with a patchwork of bridges over flooded waters. Nature pokes her head in the spaces in between and we barely notice her except when she brings forth from the sky. I feel closer to her today, as she announces the return of spring's reign.

On rainy sidewalks, people bow their heads beneath hoods and umbrellas, like the flowers buried just under the soil. Today, we are still hibernating, but soon we will show our faces again.

- wit -