“A delicate fabric of bird song
Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
Is everywhere.
Oh I must pass nothing by
Without loving it much,
The raindrop try with my lips,
The grass with my touch;
For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May
Shining after the rain?”

~ Sara Teasdale (American poet; 1884 – 1933)

Gladly shared by Betty Hanselman
Gardener’s wife (& spring-rain walker)