I went down to mingle my breath with the breath of the cherry blossoms. There were photographers: Mothers arranging their children against gnarled old trees; a couple, hugging, asks a passerby to snap them like that, so that their love will always be caught between two friendships: ours & the friendship of the cherry trees. Oh Cherry, why can’t my poems be as beautiful? A young woman in a fur-trimmed coat sets a card table with linens, candles, a picnic basket & wine. A father tips a boy’s wheelchair back so he can gaze up at a branched heaven. All around us the blossoms flurry down whispering, Be patient you have an ancient beauty. Be patient, you have an ancient beauty.
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