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Ode to a Cherry Tree

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Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view,

In the midst of hot coffee’s morning ritual brew.

Staring out with amazement and wonderfully struck,

By our Cherry Tree’s overnight sensation run amuck!


By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she has played,

Million blossoms wide open one February day.

This juvenile sapling knows not what it feels,

Sprouting vivid Pink colors, the show it now steals.


From those all around laying dormant in state,

Expecting nature’s cue to blossom their own petals awake.

And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash,

Replaced by green leaves summer storms will soon thrash.


But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense,

In only the time needed for fresh java to dispense.

Tomorrow I’ll once again observe through plate glass,

The wonders waiting just beyond cold winter’s Rye Grass.


© Michael Wegman, 2014

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