Fresh and tender,
gangly limbs grow,
young leaves flap,
in the wind.

Young buds form,
longing to blossom,
unspoiled petals,
contained within.

With impatience I wait,
longing for spring,
and the warmth of the sun,
to open the blooms.

I hum in anticipation,
flitting back and forth,
checking on the progress,
of the future nectar.