I was looking out our west window at a wild cherry tree in full blossom when a brief blizzard blew in and by. In the midst of the Covid19 pandemic it struck me as perhaps a hopeful corollary.
The cherry tree
was full of blossom
full of promise
soft white tender
against the grey sky
when the blizzard burst
as white but driven hard
A cold front sweeping
with frigid menace
through a deceitful spring.
But even the flakes
when stilled lay white
softly on the green grass
A last futile gasp
of winter’s jealous beauty
now melting quickly
A moment of fear
now nourishing
The promised fruit of fall.
