Cherry blossoms, they told me in Japan, flit through spring and won’t stay, no matter how we squeeze–
much like love.
Boys play their taunting games as they would anywhere.
Businessmen trudge in their ties under the trees.
Girls eat sweets.
An airplane rustles the sky overhead.
Pigeons are clearly proud of the possibilities that spring holds for them.
They discuss these things and chuckle as they walk through sprinklings of petals on the ground.
In the trees, some other bird can be heard.
It sounds a bit frantic.
Is it lamenting the nests it built for a bird that flirted and then slipped away?