Is it time?.

So, has winters cold countenance finally cast aside the many veils that that season's wardrobe can provide?
And have the glades and hills accepted a hasty costume change?
Or will the dormant Thespian growth refuse audition,
Not to be tempted by a warm, soft deceptive breath that flatters only aspiration,
Leaving the verdant, premature hopes of churlish things appalled.