A Light Exists in Spring

Even though we're halfway through March, I still love this poem by Emily Dickinson, and find it appropriate:


LXXXV

A LIGHT exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.
When March is scarcely here
A color stands abroad	5
On solitary hills
That silence cannot overtake,
But human nature feels.
It waits upon the lawn;
It shows the furthest tree	10
Upon the furthest slope we know;
It almost speaks to me.
Then, as horizons step,
Or noons report away,
Without the formula of sound,	15
It passes, and we stay:
A quality of loss
Affecting our content,
As trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a sacrament.