there is a green called waiting
when every spring bud has opened
one eye then held its breath against
snowwind unexpected mid-April
a wheeze that passes quickly but leaves
cloudcold and rainchill into May
a maybe or maybe not of thawed air
temperatures lacking enough sunsnug
the season like an old woman in bed
awake but unready to put her foot
against the floor boards until at last
the heat clicks on and bare limbs
unfurl into a thick robe of leaves
Folio, Volume 31, Issue 1, 2021