without loves guidance
future is illusion
where blooms give sorrow
For fifty one weeks a year, my neighbor’s tree stands quietly in his front yard blending in with the suburban neighborhood, an unremarkable background tree just off an asphalt driveway. But for one week, just as winter’s frost has lifted, it blossoms into a show stopping canopy of fragrant pink and white flowers that slows traffic and warms the coldest heart.
Then, just as quickly as it burst forth, a steady breeze ends the show, plummeting petals of softness into the night, clearing the stage for spring’s next performer.
(My best guess as to type of tree)
sudden white snowfall
lacey blossom coverlet-
hiding springtime chores