Saturday, July 25, 2009


Lost Blossoms
A Poem

They only bloomed
last week
after a winter
of waiting.
But now they are falling.
A silent rain of spring
soundlessly landing,
a snow of pink
and white.
Like a wedding vale,
worn once and forgotten
to yellow in a bag
with mothballs.
Petals scatter in drifts
in the gutter
to rot,
a mulch too frail to use.
If winter lasted six more weeks
it would be better
than to see
lost blossoms
swept off the sidewalks
with a two-horse power leaf blower.


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(C) Adron Dozat