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.