Flurry of white petals from cherry limbs, and I raise my head listening toward windows, as if voices have suddenly come closer, syllables lifted and carried I need to catch when they pass.... Such an alert comes, not from connections with the past, which is present with us, but from that forward look, a sense of what's coming to the door. The spring grass has ripened to green and had its first mowing. To some the word pasture is scriptural. Even grass blades turn naturally toward light.