The bloom is on us now
and fear does make what's fragile quake
pink and gold upon the bough
petals quiver, fall, and shake.
So thin, the skin, some opaque
blossoms unfurl and lace the ground
their life passes without a sound.
Cry for the petal's fall
yes, mourn the death of these little things
the puss ywillow enthralls
the halo of seeds on wing
voiceless they bloom and fall down
oh see fair Spring lose its royal crown.