Moving through the poem line by line, I guess I could say that I live in the Westcott neighborhood, and I walk quite a bit. Walking in the spring I often notice that there's a kind of chilly breeze. You're walking around and somehow the overall temperature gets warm, but the wind's still cold.

As to the second and third lines, there are all of these books about how tree roots have ways of speaking to each other through the soil, and I like the idea of the nerves within the tree, but also the ambiguity with the person walking past them. We're always waiting for that moment for spring to begin; a leaf coming out, one little bud, it's going to happen at some point.