Spring Fantasy

Surely the stuff of a
spring fantasy, the sun
gleaming gold in a perfectly
pellucid sky, nuthatches
scrambling wrong way up,
cardinals trilling, mourning cloaks
and water striders returned to
woodland and creeks
respectively, the atmosphere
redolent of the sweet flush
of green teetering on the
edge of eruption along bare
tree branches. On the street
a fairy child with large bold 
eyes and darkly curled hair,
the merest wisp of a child
leads a tall white dog, 
large enough for its sprite
of a companion to ride astride,
nature's offspring all freed
from the crepuscular confines
of winter's morose cold strangle.