You watch the birdies. I'm watching the trees.

Bare trees, they are. For the first time, buds are visibly swelling. The trees are still behaving like, Mother, may I? Really? You sure about that?

The tulips, I will allow, have got their green leaves pushed out and flopping over in the wind.

And that clear blue sky overhead. Maybe, just maybe, there will be no more Ess-word for a while.