Daylight lingers a little longer now on the evening commute. No need to draw the drapes so early. As an antidote to the daily hum of office computers, I stand a while on the patio and absorb the garden sounds. Birdsong is all but silent. In the distance I can hear the faint sound of a dog barking. I venture towards the pyracantha, near the door and peer beneath its evergreen branches. I smile broadly. There in the day's dying light, I spot tiny green snowdrop shoots that have made it through the frozen earth.
though chilly winds may
harshly blow green shoots appear
Spring's annual gift
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