As I sat at the stoplight,
looking at its outstretched arm,
the spindly fingers of a bare tree
reached for the cloud-streaked
blue-gray beyond, a signal that
spring is a coming attraction,
and, as if announcing its emergence,
other early bloomers have already
burst into popcorn-kernel blossom,
a reminder that there’s nothing
I have to do to deserve this,
except wait, practice patience
and admire the what is
in the right now.
Güd wrtr 
The trees lining the street near the speed limit sign are sycamores, whose lovely bark reminds me of gray-and-cream taffeta. The impressive evergreen to the right is a Douglas fir. I have two of them in my back yard! Your poem lets us see these spindly wonders, now waking from a sort of winter hibernation, in a new way!