An actor listening in the wings
A runner, feat pressed into the starting blocks
A seed resting beneath snow
A faint star outlasting the sun as day turns to night
A singer holding their breath before their first note
A baker peaking in through the oven window
A driver scanning for an opening in traffic.

To act too soon would be foolish
In this time we would be lost
The scene must play
The snow melt, the sun set
The orchestra is only halfway through its introduction
Release the breath and draw another
The bread is only beginning to brown.