Flowering Song

We sing of the cherry in spring;
Of the dogwood in all likelihood;
Of hawthorne, of plum and then some–
And of the flood of the redbud;
Of some the form is full-born
A white and moving sea in daylight
At night a ghost; a rosy host
In morning until the nightbirds sing;
Some have but one branch so done
In a woody place, a colored trace
A thread, where all else brown and dead
Looms tall, athwart a woody wall;
Leaf-shades soon return, and spurn
These of bright display aught halfway
Half-lit by branch, in split chance
And see below — the earth has snow.

(photo is of a Kwanzan Cherry.)

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