by Jennifer Brown Rémi Walle What’s hard about spring is all the light —  down-pouring thin at first, then full-flowing, impatient for sap, for green, for pollen to tumble yellow confetti along its bright chutes that slice between bare branches, this light almost solid, this light setting the air to dance the sevenveils, to disrobe, leaving the scarves where they fall. What’s hard about spring is all the yearning —  the crisp unfolding buds, leaves palely meeting the dew that