with a head full of cells and electricity,
working hard to conjure some magic.

Clouds reflect a gray light that coats rather than shines,
but any light is welcome in a Rochester April.

The tulips look tipsy, their red and yellow buds
spark the gloom to life with a flashy display.

The clematis is a treble clef on the shed wall,
sparrows a churning chorus chirping to the congregation.

Rain casts its spell, the street empties,
light puddles on pavement in a glimmering elixir.

There is magic in the air, that's a given.
You only have to breathe to be enchanted.