Wednesday, April 11, 2012

very small pink blossoms

Today I have seen the most beautiful things--
a boy reading atop a hill of white tiny blossoms,
two girls umbrellaed under a tree burst out with new green leaves,
the grass patterns like lace of the sun through the trees.

On the walk to class on this my last day, the air was pink-blossom-perfumed
and the breeze was cool and it swirled around me.
And the warmth on the breeze and its sweetness...

I was overcome by the patient delicate beauty of it all, so I sat beneath a tree,
read my book about French culture,
on a hill haloed with this lacy blossom-air.

And when I walked home this afternoon, the breeze had become a gust,
and I walked through a corridor of milk-white trees,
and the gust coaxed the blossompetals off their buds
and through the shaded, covered, secret corridor air.

No picture could say what I felt,
surrounded by tiny blossoms milk white like tiny fairies,
all whispering, "Spring!"