Expecting Green

We have forsythia. I doubt 
any sign of spring and warm 
days ahead could wax 
more distinctive. The blast 
of yellow is both defiant 
and joyful, a snub 
of the nose to winter past 
and a gauntlet to summer. 
As I drove south to New Haven 
yesterday, the roadside trees 
went from leafless 
to budding green, 
predicting over distance 
what will happen in time 
here in my own yard.
I hope.
Once the leaves burgeon
and the world transforms,
I’ll quickly switch to denial
about the six preceding months of gray,
but we are not there yet.
We teeter.
Will it be a few days?
A week?
Soon, in any case.
For now, I have forsythia.