Spring dust

 

In a corner, quietly stands a cherry blossom tree

With fuchsia blossoms slowly unfurling

Above the waves of passengers huddling in line for the bus, never ready

For a moment of repose. A flicker of the sea breeze

Comes, undulating the cumulous pink clouds

That stretch far away to the snow-capped mountains.

Slowly I tread on the carpet of green grass, fearing that

I may trample the delicate pink petals underneath

On my way home. My sister and I call them specks of spring dust,

so dazzling but fleeting, as they could withstand

only a few days of rain. Then the colours blemish, the petals floating away

below the leaden skies.

With spring comes jubilation, but also a wisp of nostalgia.

I heard of a movie long ago

About two soulmates trying to reunite

As they crisscross the globe, at the speed of cherry blossom petals:

5cm/s. When I first learned this, my science-cogged brain

Could not fathom that the speed of cherry blossom petals

Can be quantitated, given the very unstable air resistance

From the winds of the West Coast.

But once I contemplated it (over a steaming cup of hot cocoa), an epiphany stroke

Everything can be quantitated, from the fluttering cherry blossom petals

The hours of sunshine and the length of the road leading to my school,

Where the days will pass quickly, just like the April cherry blossom.

With that, I cherish these rose-tinted days in high school,

For although there will be more spring days in the next years,

The shade of pink will never be the same.

Thumbnail: Me on another cherry blossom gazing adventure, a week after the local cherry blossom festival (where it unfortunately poured, making everything viewed from my eyeglasses look like an Impressionist painting).