Urgent

There is an urgency for spring all around me. Tips of every branch and stem swell with buds anxious to burst into bloom. My backyard is dotted with with white blossoms, which couldn't wait and spilled into sunshine on a falsely warm day. I don't know if the others can hold back until this hesitation which takes the air from 70 degrees to 40 degrees makes up its atmospheric mind. Today is yet another gray, chilly day. Cold rain is splattering on the patio. A stiff breeze bobs those buds heavily up and down, and the pines whisper, "Not yet, not yet."