Spring
drives us most crazy
with its presence
when it’s least present.

Gorged buds,
scent of early flowers;
staying out later in nights at last
not so full on deathly cold;
enough is happening to leave us
gasping in frustration
for the pollen
when the late snow falls.

Brutal, treacherous season that it is,
we bend to it, almost breaking,
knowing it’s indeed here
without us being able
to enjoy it — 
knowing it’s here and 
it won’t completely show itself
until it’s almost time to become
summer.