They move the clocks forward like it isn't magic, like it is not a gift to give sunlight to darkness, give spring to the thawing ground. You know it at once, like a silent alarm inside your bones has begun to vibrate, like an armor has been welded to your rib cage and you are invincible. You made it, somehow you made it, to the other end of winter, with nothing but blooms and brightness ahead. It was less cruel than it has been, you are less frail than you once were, a year ago the ice broke from around your shoulders and you felt again what it is to be alive, the moment has etched itself into your memory and you revel in it now, let it melt on your tongue like a butterscotch, smooth, sweet, joyous.
You wrap your work early, bring your computer to the little writing desk in the closet, look out over the afternoon light over the Red Hook projects and churches. Wonder if you'll make friends with these streets in earnest. The trees are barren, still, brown with survival, but knobby with impending sprouts. Everything that is to come, is on its way.
Take a step, just one step, then take another. It doesn't seem like much now, but eventually you will have walked all the way into life.
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