Hesitate

  

These flowers are
hesitant in the folds
of their own skin,
the gray hum
of morning only
slightly more enticing
than the teeming
deep of night, but
today is what it is and
they could no more
will the clouds to part
than they could
the wind to quiet
its whispering or
the passing children
to quell their
endless excitement,
so they bide their time
shrouded in their
cocoons and wait
for the sun to wake
them to splashes
of blue and a day more
welcoming than this.

(dtn)

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