Wednesday, January 26, 2022

The Blossoms Are Coming

February is right around the corner and in San Francisco, that means the plums will be a’bloom. I saw my first little blossom yesterday and remembered this poem I wrote eight years ago:


The twined bare branches against the grey sky,

A twisted prayer pointing upwards. 

All is winter in the plum tree, 

a mere remembrance of a 

former red-leaved splendor.


Hidden in the tangle 

is a single pink blossom,

a scout sent out ahead bearing

the good news:


“The bloom is on its way. These stark branches

will soon be aflame in pink blossoms, 

singing their Hallelujah 

to Spring.”


Perhaps this is my work also.

To be the lone pink blossom

announcing the glory to come. 


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