Answer:
Other than the fuchsia funnels bursting out of the crabapple branch, more than the almost grotesque show of the neighbor's cherry branches tossing their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate sky of Spring rains, it's the greening of the trees that really gets to me. When all the surprise of white and taffy, the baubles and trinkets of the world, leave the streets strewn with the resulting confetti, the leaves come along. Patient, plodding, a green layer that spreads over all that winter has done to us, a return to the curious notion of continuous life amid the chaos, the pain, the hollow. Well then, I'm going to take it, the tree appears to say, a new glossy leaf unfurling like a fist into an open palm, I'm going to take it all.