Can't believe that I've posted three (unhumorous) rhyming poems in a row. But thought this was apropos with all things blossoming and blooming in my 'hood. And it fits in with the examining of teeny delights and being present. Yes, I typed that last phrase without any irony or gagging, and yes, these are camellias and not cherry trees--I used that photo yesterday.
Loveliest of Trees
A.E. Houseman
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland rise
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
And yes, I hear this chestnut every year, but I like it -- it reminds me of the Japanese sakura parties -- you only get so much time in life to sit on a blue tarp and look up at clouds of loveliness, so you'd best get on with it now.
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