Spring hearkening to the door

Spring never runs true for it weaves and winds and hurls sleets snow and soft rain in equal measure. Yet it is extraordinary in both its design and gentle execution. For what of the days that are lost in the rush to a high straddling sun that covets growth? The rising fever that we call the madness of spring is now but a heartbeat from the door and all we treasure will coalesce into the brighter days we so desire to live in.