When the calendar brings in the cuckoo

For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remember'd is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
—Algernon Charles Swinburne, Atalanta in Calydon (1865)

It's the first day of spring. My poem "If Fallen Angels Dream of Flight," written in 2004 for a dream of lesser_celery's, has been accepted by Ideomancer. There is still an impressive amount of snow in the front yard.