Thursday, February 26, 2015


Asian women have often sung
of blossoms clustering on the trees
like snow. By now the metaphor
is ancient as the word  maiden
but  symbolizes (still) how Spring is Winter
and Winter is Spring.
From a distance, the white bloom
looks the same. A bride raising
her bouquet to the light, offering
what has been gathered from
the garden's burial or baptism.
Some birds leave then return. Strings of grass
tuned by their lift and landing. Others stay
singing consistently -- from beginning
to end, end through beginning.  Boundaries
melt or freeze into one.
Each year, we cross over seasons
unaware how immortality
is already written, colored and carved
on our bones.
The beautiful painting is by artist, Viki Ye

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