Pink clouds adrift,
on budded branches,
brief sparks against grey bark.
For one radiant week
they burn bright,
each a fleeting blaze.
Nature’s fireworks
igniting one by one,
surrendering to entropy.
What secrets whisper
in their dying flares?
Fallen ashes sign their dying wish.
Re-birth’s bittersweet cycle
sprung from death’s sloughed husk,
a cosmos ever renewing.
The cherry blossoms
revel in this borrowed blaze,
to burn vivid, while they last.
