Dave Bonta's poem catches the moment spring becomes real. It is the first warm day, and the landscape answers in sound: insects humming on the mountain, motorcycles droning in the valley. The wild and the human seem to share the same excitement, even if one is a little louder than the other.
Then the poem drops its focus to ground level. Among old coyote droppings and dry grass, the trailing arbutus begins to bloom. The image of the grass "curled tight as pubic hair" is blunt and a bit startling, but it fits the poem's earthy, bodily view of nature. Nothing here is prettified. The flower's "fragrant parts" opening is quiet and a little intimate, and it feels like the poem's real event.
The speaker never states a feeling, but the close attention suggests patience and quiet delight. The mood is fresh and alert, with a sense of life emerging from what looks like leftover winter debris.