The cherry tree outside
thatches its delicate fingers
into a mesh of pink petal sea,
fathomless to the eye.

The window frames it,
a perfect picture untarnished by
brushstroke, pencil or pastel.
Each line crisp, each colour full

The wind tosses the branches
into waves that break pink spray
into the breeze. The blossom snows
down like a springtime blizzard.

Soon the branches will be bare,
like bones stripped of flesh.