Spring

I walk across campus
with a binder tucked under my arm
and I barely notice the spring.

I barely notice the robin
in the mulch
under the bushes
strutting his red barrel chest.

I barely notice how high is the sky
now that the grey winter blanket
is gone.

I barely notice the earth under my rubber soled shoes
damp and yielding to my heavy steps
no longer frozen and stone.

I barely notice
the chorus of birds around me.

I barely notice the warm air
on my bare arms,
the sun beaming proud,
high in his bright blue sky,
the squirrel sitting on the bench
clutching a tiny rosary
in his tiny little claws.

I notice the hawk.
I see him circling in the air
now against the sky,
now against the brown mountains.

The mountains full of trees
The trees full of bare brown branches
The branches full of their millions
and millions of delicate emerald buds.

I notice the people jogging past me.

I notice the butterfly that landed on the edge of a trash can.

I notice the stones popping
under my shoes
as I twist my feet on the ground.

I notice the tree in the courtyard
still clutching the dead brown leaves
from last fall.

I notice the boys
playing frisbee.

I notice the girls
on blankets in the grass.

I notice the golden daffodils
standing in the raised beds
proud of themsleves
for being the first ones awake.

In a five minute walk
from one building to the next,
I notice some things,
and miss so many more.

All I'm doing is walking
with a binder tucked under my arm
while the world is yawning, and stretching awake
from her long cold slumber.

I hold the door for someone
as he walks out,
and I walk in.

"Beautiful day." he says.
I agree.

That's all. That's it.

Then, I'm back inside
where there are no seasons,
and I notice nothing at all.