The blooms have each waited
inside a small, tight bud all
winter long. Each a sex-nub,
a tender, excitable mound of
tree-flesh rousing to sunlight’s
rub. They’ve begun to swell.
Their catkin shells grow and
glow. Slow slow arousal. Until
the tree shudders into a
thousand outbursts of pink
and cream, each cupping a
clot of pollen’s sticky gold.
Reckless petals fling open
wider—some already
surrendered to the ground.
***
Image: Photo by Lisa Verena Pape on Unsplash