The Pink-cloud Morning
These branches first saw April air before
They saw the buds and cherry blossoms. Bare
They looked upon March winds which barks ignore.
Inside of those wrapped hard is pink aware
Of promise and fulfilment. Later years
Will show them plenty, plenty, plenty yet
Again but cherry trees recall frontiers
Of cold before the April showers wet
Their appetites for surge and burst and bloom.
They call upon the springtime sun to hype
Away their subtlety with one big boom
Of pinkest stamen tips and anthers–SWIPE.
The trees do not forget when pink is gone
That once before this death they knew this dawn.
~ Phillip Whidden
Thanks.
I’m afraid I almost never check for messages here. I’m really sorry.