After the rain,
after the hail,
When a top hat of frost was paired with a fistful of wild arugula,
When the wind blew ice up backsides but marched through puddles anyways,
When feet were covered with daisies and breath streamed like sunlight,
When the river's edge held the bluest lichen and the field the promise of gophers,
After all that,
we finally found our stride.