Spring Is Almost Here

We know the drill reticent as a daffodil spring is almost here. It comes but once a year. Those last few touches of frosts we sneer but to a man we all sincerely revere. The first snowdrops bobbing gondolier it's peeping snowy white stratosphere. Ice becomes all the thornier. When the pussy willows catkins quill bursts and shivers like frothy beer with cushions, white downy, fiberfill. Then all-of-a-sudden, it's like a prayer. All is well to stand and stare. Feel as though a promise could fulfill was nodding residing in a golden daffodil?