the blossom came early, dressed in white finery
even though the nights are still so cold
that the stars fall from the heavens
and lie shattered and sparkling on the morning grass
recognising once more its immemorial springtime lover
the wind’s tender arms embrace the blossom’s slender form
and hold it in timeless motion, in passion.
i drink a cup of rich warming red wine
to stave off the sharp taste of winter
and spin, giddy as a silent celluloid heroine
dancing alongside the blossom and the wind
till I fall, and lie still on the grass
the world itself whirling now in the endless dance