Schubert and sneezes

One of the first poems I ever learned. From my mother, of course:

Spring is sprung, the grass is griz. I wonder where them flowers is.

Of all the faces of spring, the ones that were the most glorious were those early ones.

When the first tulip burst into all is glory, looking like a cup for fairies to gather round. When hyacinths seemed so extraordinarily dainty and pansies were my favorite flower.

April showers meant walking to school under my mother's huge umbrella. Sharing with my sister, both of us arriving with soaked feet, wet legs and filled with giggles.

May Day followed with paper baskets filled with lilacs from the backyard bushes, their heady scent so strong it made me sneeze when my mother put them on top of the baby grand in the living room..

Schubert and sneezes!

The signs of spring.