Cherry

White to bleeding pink flora

Soft in color 

Like Himalayan sea salt

Fall like snow

In seventy degree 

April weather

In my backyard.

I witness this

Lazily

On a Tuesday morning

Outside my bedroom windows.

I have off...

And I can only just watch

The spin-dry cycle hail

Of cherry blossoms descend

Like the Royal Ballet

In petal-fragments

From my bed

Guilt free gratitude

Sipping a very hot

Stove-top latte

Whilst naked

Being careful

Not to spill.

The falling flowers

Rest the demons inside.

Even those found

Still loitering

So early in the morning.

Left over

From the night and day previous

Still wrestless and writhing.

White to bleeding pink flora

Flit about like large 

Delicately falling

Origami paper partridges.

As if a silent breezy movie

Was chattering by

Teeth

Catching the notches

Cut into thick celluloid

Moving past the film gate

Then the lens

Of the dozen candied glass window panes

In my room

Embering

From the morning sun.