Sheltered in the hollow of a palm
a blossom may live a few moments longer.
But the thing to know about this season
is that it is meant for the passing.
The wind comes and the trees exhale
all in a gentle white sigh.
A thousand petals in the air.
As many in the water below.
love how vivid the visuals are in this gentle poem
ReplyDeleteSuch a tender, palpable meditation on transience. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteSoft, so soft...
ReplyDelete