Spring by Linda Pastan.

Just as we lose hope

she ambles in,

a late guest

dragging her hem

of wildflowers,

her torn

veil of mist,

of light rain,

blowing

her dandelion 

breath

in our ears;

and we forgive her,

turning from

chilly winter

ways,

we throw off

our faithful

sweaters

and open

our arms.