flowers are bravely lining up on branches, waiting for their time to mature before leaving.
i sit near wanting to breathe them in while i can, while the sky remains clear, before the sun fills the horizon and pushes out this beautiful spring.
in nearly twenty-four years i've grown to know and expect that the tilt of the earth brings on the seasons, but it never seems easy to settle into new changes if the summer beats the blossoms in their patient becoming.
it's all a matter of timing.
and lovingly trusting the roots whether they throw up their ends to mimic the branches, spread out to hold on to more ground, or burrow deeper with the hope of tapping into a well.