You know that feeling, this time of year, when you step out into the still dark garden, into the early morning, after the frost has gone, and the air tingles with tentative birdsong, and you pause and look to one another, searching in the deep blue shadows for the others surprise.
The air is warm! And you both smile and move off the step and into the day.
And all day your eyes are on the skies, your ears are pricked, your nose may even twitch, your bones just know.
Spring is somewhere, hidden still, shy and not quite ready, but heralded by every feathered harbinger that cannot keep their tongue, by the teasing air that startles your skin, sets it aquiver, by the sun that seems caught in the trembling reeds, caught in the evening that stays a little longer.
And even though you know the cold is not done with us, and the frost may well be there tomorrow, still, you have Sense-ed the Spring.
And she is not so far away.