The first day of spring where a coat is not needed

Plimsoll feet skiffle
through littered
blossom as it falls,
catching in hairstyles
and sneaking into pockets.
Leaves whisper softly,
warmly,
a calmer way of speaking
than when fending off cold.
Bare arms steady themselves
and the gold hairs ruffle,
unsure of what to do without goosebumps.
Wysteria, warmed by sun
is leaning from a whitewashed wall,
emanating its sweetshop smell,
all Monet lilacs and
looking like grapes.
Sounds occur,
like small aircraft buzzing through
the blue,
or children in a playground
and you wonder whether
you hear them at all in winter.
The air is soft
like apricots
and you keep your jacket
tucked under your arm.