Again, Spring.

Is there anything more well-worn than heralding Spring? It comes every year; it is guaranteed. Its chant is sung inside and out. But to me it seems each realization outdoes the ones before - maybe because it is guilelessly outdoing itself there in front of you, again. I remember walking through Central Park every morning to work last Spring and being jolted (I like the French bouleversée better to describe it) by what was happening. It doesn't change, the reaction - no matter how many times the same trees shoot out flowers, being rendered insensible to their sight is impossible.