Driving to work this morning, I put in a CD of new age music and did my best to silence my mind. I usually spend the drive thinking about the day ahead of me, making mental to-do lists and focusing on the trivial worries that gnaw hungrily at my sense of peace and confidence. This morning, the mist clung to the river’s surface like a lover’s kiss, and the mountain streams seemed to whisper the secrets of spring to the trees. I wanted nothing more than to take in the beauty of the rural morning landscape. The sunlight felt like a gift. The grass has begun to green, yet for the naked trees, their spring leaves are still but a dream. Last night I read Mary Oliver’s newest book of poetry, Evidence. Like her, I am in love with the earth and its simple miracles. The crocuses lift their delicate purple faces to the sky, and I wonder if their souls rejoice at the sun’s first tender caress. Perhaps their beauty is a gift to God; an offering of thanks for this glorious life. In the robin’s song I hear the echoes of my own joy. Spring is here! As creatures of the earth, we are bound together in spirit as we celebrate the return of warmth and the renewal of life. So this morning, as I drove to work, I turned my attention to the greening fields, to the mountains gilded with sunlight, and to the promise that each new morning brings. We come out of the darkness and dance in the light. Spring is here! Spring is here!