Sakura
I sat beneath a cherry tree,
A skeleton still in early spring.
Buddings dotted her branches,
Just beginning their life.
I returned to that tree next week.
The buds were in full bloom now.
She filled the sky with pristine white.
I went to have a closer look.
A rock tripped me though.
I hadn’t noticed him there.
I held him in my hand, feeling his heft.
He felt smooth, the edges worn away.
“You are millions of years old.
You have seen mountains rise.
You have seen oceans fall.
How incredible your life must be,” I told him.
I returned to the tree a third week.
There was but one blossom now.
She was almost a skeleton again,
Erupting with beauty no more.
A faint breeze passed by me then.
I saw that blossom shake, then fall.
The final blow dealt.
The blossom floated down onto the rock.
They shared a moment, young and old together.
The serene moment ended with the next gust though.
And I watched the pedals stream down his face.
I picked up the blossom,
Still beautiful as ever.
I realized how similar our lives were.
“Oh cherry blossom,
Our lives are fragile and short, yet
The rock stands forever idle.
The world teems with our energy.
We find more beauty in two weeks
Than he in eternity.
How lucky we are!”
