The softest blanket covering the world under its branches,
Baby pinks, creams and sensitive whites.
The tiny petals resting gently on the heavy and moist soil.
The earthy scent of dirt and fertility,
Wafting up from the ground beneath.
The gentle breeze, giggling with mischief,
Sweeping through the blackened old arms of the ancients,
Swaying slowly in time with the bell like laughter of the wind.