Ode To a Cherry Tree

Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view, In the midst of my coffee’s morning ritual brew. Staring with amazement—I’m wonderfully struck, By Cherry Tree blossoms, overnight run amuck! By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she now plays, Million blossoms wide open, this February day. Our sad juvenile sapling, knows not what it feels, Sprouting vivid Pink colors, in a show it now steals. From those all around laying dormant in state, Waiting to blossom, their own petals awake. And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash, Replaced by green leaves, summer storms will soon thrash. But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense, In the time it took java, to heat and dispense. Tomorrow once more, I’ll observe through plate glass, Wonders that await, beyond Winter’s Rye Grass. © Michael Wegman, 2018