It was a wonderful spring day in March with sunshine and mild temperatures beaming upon me as I sat on the bench along the riverfront. A dark haired lady strolled by and sat down beside me. We greeted each other and I remarked the sun is back and so are you I see. Time went by so fast. I cannot remember all the moments as she told me once again the seasons were changing. The flower buds, birds in the yard, smell of fresh cut grass. Azure skies daunted on the horizon with towering cumulus clouds to keep one at guard, the stature of the trees unfolding their glory before your eyes. The wind whispers in your ear as raindrops tickle your fancy. Yeah it is time, might as well be. A change of pace, change of attire, change of expression, change of hope, and of course a change of seasons. “Spring has sprung, the grass has ris’ and I wonder where the little birdies is?” She chuckles and turns her head as she departs, I smile, I fret . . . yet I know the seasons are changing. March sometimes drifts into June for a short brief solace before March reappears and brings forth the clouds and rain and wind. Sailboats drift down the Columbia with the wind; fishermen guide their boats searching for spring salmon. Joggers and walkers some with a dog on a leash in tow pass by and I smile. Just four days ago I made a little snow man in the yard. Someone asked me why the sad looking face I placed upon him, remarking with a sigh, “Because he knows he will quickly melt away.” With the warm sun on my face right now it seems like such a distant memory. ~Patrick Timm