Clocks Spring Forward

My window is open. The air coming in is soft and cool not chillingly icy. The gray sky is milky not gun metal gray. The trees are spikey with finger sized offshoots, greeney brown trunks replace uniform black ones. The park has a few carpets of purple and white. Green daffodil stems nod and sway in time to the wind. The clocks are all changed. Spring will arrive soon.