Early Spring

She is that green not yet quite green that bough still barely fleshed forth though buds have cracked and worm-blades ease out testing the air She's that moment's rare time of tentative tree so young of sycamore month you'd think One- of-a-kind! forgetting how many Aprils bloomed before She is so nearly yet not certainly about to make claim still so unavowed you hesitate to say her name lest you advance her into leaf untimely before you can bear to behold her full foliaged prime