The blossom-covered tree looks perfect.
I mean, it looks right.
How could that tree –
A tangle of branches only weeks ago, brittle and bare
Be any more beautiful than it is now?
Some red, some yellow, yes
But look at the white ones
The apple, peach and plums, so full
It is as if they have been bathed with heaven’s light
It looks – clearly, as the lawyers say –
That this trunk and branches was made for this very thing
Must have been. What could be more perfect?
Shedding glory on everything around it. Like love.
Now the world looks like it was supposed to look
That must be it, isn’t it? Isn’t this what the winter
Is supposed to lead to?
“I will invest in this,” you say
“I know. I can tell. Just from the look of it.
This is how things were meant to be.”
But in days the blossoms are gone
The wind blows and one night of frost returns
And now we are back to mere prose, again
Leaves and branches, leaves and branches.
Be careful what you buy.