The Crow and the Cherry Blossom - 06/24/10

1

Scavenge, small black bird
Pink lips, green leaves, must be spring
Dark and bright clash, rough


2

Pink pedals drift
Ever so gently
Through the cool air
From the twisting
Tree of pink and green
It must be spring.

A large, black crow
Picks his way
Through lichen.
He is hungry,
Like the wind
That tears up this place
Searching, searching, searching
But never finding
What it seeks
Though it rips
Around ever corner
In cold pursuit.


3

Doesn’t have to mean
A thing
Can just be
What is
A representation
No metaphor,
Not this time