Spring's always brought me mem'ries of
our first apartment's tiny rooms,
the trill of birds in budding trees,
the pungency of lilac blooms.

Our afternoons we'd always spend
out on the porch in canvas chairs.
We'd watch two robins build their nest
within a bush beneath the stairs.

We both admired their diligence,
ability to work by rote
and build a home from mostly twigs.
"What skills they have!" we'd both emote.

But then in May with trees all leafed,
that lilac bush, the birds' new home,
burst into burgundy bouquets,
its perfume like a scented poem.

As Spring arrives I have the urge
to sniff the air, to closely peer.
When lilacs bloom will robins nest
in bushes in my yard this year?