rejectomorph | Premature Harbingers

A robin was pecking in my back yard. A pair of screeching blue jays, acting as though they were about to nest, chased all the other birds from the bushes beside the house. A few plants seem to be putting out new shoots. At night, the porch light attracts dozens of whirling, dark-winged moths. All last night, I heard a frog croaking in the distance. So far, no blossoms have appeared on the cherry tree, and the air does not yet cary the scent of spring. I know that there is bound to be more cold weather, and the unseemly haste of some species is distressing. They are acting like humans, rushing into some project without first knowing what the circumstances are, or what may result. A proper spring is worth waiting for.