Sprung

Today it is overcast and spitting enough rain that the grass and lilacs and tulips and apple blossoms shoot smell out into the breeze that winds through the brick and gabled Victorian mansions along Brunswick street.

Spring is not something I thought about when I decided to move to this city which is so famed for its winters and sweltering smoggy summers.

While I was sleepwalking through May the front gardens sprouted and drank up all the rain and grew and grew into lush front stoop oases that beg me to sit with a cup of tea and absorb lilac essence through my pores.

Spending a morning pedaling along one way side streets in the Annex and catching raindrops and maple tree pods in my hair causes my thoughts to run together in swooping arching sentences completely devoid of punctuation.