That reminds me of two of Eliot's verses:
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
from "The Waste Land"
And then the morning brings the excited chitter of sparrows. I need to set up a nest box, because this guy and his woman-in-waiting are trying to stuff straw into our rolled-up bamboo curtains.
O quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow,
Swamp-sparrow, fox-sparrow, vesper-sparrow
At dawn and dusk. Follow the dance
Of goldfinch at noon.
from “Cape Ann”