Spring doesn't care about you,
or your heavy heart,
or that you’ve walked so far,
or that you work so hard
and dreamed so secretly.
Spring could care less.

There is work to be done:
flowers must be forced opened,
the air must be made warm,
leaves must be pulled out
to be laid bare to the sun.
There is no time for you.

Yes, Spring doesn't care,
but you may watch Spring work,
soak up the pale yellow light,
curse the remittent snows
and perhaps forget.

And, if you are born again too
it will not matter to the Spring.
But, it may matter to you.
She will come anyway.
Why not come too?