Gift of a friend, the stone Buddha sits zazen,
prayer beads clutched in his chubby fingers.
Through snow, icy rain, the riot of spring flowers,
he gazes forward to the city in the distance—always
the same bountiful smile upon his portly face.
Why don’t I share his one-minded happiness?
The pear blossom, the crimson-petaled magnolia,
filling me instead with a mixture of nostalgia
and yearning. He’s laughing at me, isn’t he?
The seasons wheeling despite my photographs
and notes, my desire to make them pause.
Is that the lesson? That stasis, this holding on,
is not life? Now I’m smiling, too—the late cherry,
its soft pink blossoms already beginning to scatter;
the trillium, its three-petaled white flowers
exquisitely tinged with purple as they fall.
Ted Kooser – Poet Laureate (2004-2006)
One thought on “Pear Blossoms”
Come share the wine
No one is a stranger here, they’re your friends and mine
Everyone’s your brother, we’re a long way from home
But we have each other, have no fear, you will like it here.
Bing Crosby “Come Share the Wine”
So you’ll have lavender in 6 months and I’ll have pear wine, right? 😉
Prolly not: the tree is not properly maintained and bears fruit fit only for deer. –C