“Tarry,” is Spring’s Command
Yet if we grieve, the spring that blossoms will
Not come as wishes quick or slow will leap.
The grief of spring will hasten just the spill
Of cherry blossoms. Spring will only creep
Back when its universe returns again.
Our grieving cannot bring it back or speed
Another April. Though our efforts strain
To bring back apple blossoms, spring’s own creed
Is rigid. It demands belief in hope
But offers no release from June through March.
Abandoned, pink crab apple-less, we grope
Along pathetically, limbs left to parch.
We tarry like the virgins with their oil
Till spring returns along its unmoved coil.
~ Phillip Whidden