sprinkle sparkle spring

I was walking back from a meeting this morning, closing my palsied Oregonian eyes against the sudden sunlight filtering down through thin layers of winter cloud. The whole campus smelled of flowers-- sugary pink early spring flowers. I felt a few drops on my head, spaced apart, like a mistake of rain.

As I crossed the bridge over the creek it sprinkled a bit more insistently, and in the sun, the water sparkled where the drops hit. It felt like spring was dancing with my senses. Like the perfect flirtation, it was over before I knew it and left me with a lingering smile on my face.