Brief breezes begin to cut loose
the first blooms of the Sakura tree.
Exquisitely, they fall in a spiraling dance
upon the vivid greenery.
The once busied, now pause.
The once determined, now halt their efforts –
The first blossom has fallen; captivating
every occupant of the old village.
Two women, their faces painted sheer white,
tilt their heads to observe the blossoms’ descent.
They have donned their finest kimono –
Decorated with the images of the white crane
and the graceful koi.
Nearby, others stand illuminated
by the softly lit lanterns.
Father and son appear statuesque
with their figures outlined;
painted like heroic silhouettes.
Burning faintly against the tree line,
the sunlight does very little.
But this is trivial.
The first blossom has fallen,
And a new season has begun.
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