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“A plum does not resent the hungry man, but the farmer who planted the tree.” - from ‘Bullet Train’

   ~

breath …

of Aokigahara
shadowed … solemn
pressed upon twilight’s demise
as rouge on the face of dawn
like a plum blossom
perfect … pure
fallen from Fuji’s proud shoulders
to blush the cheek of
a water, tranquil
cool glass of grace and depth
giv’n such beautied blemish …
petals’ pink ballet
fouetté en tournant to welcome the
sun on a mirrored sky -
devoted dance for the new day
once …
among many million more
trembling a-branch
but now, for a whisper of wind
a princess, divine
blooming, bowing, waltzing for
the lord of the lake, Saiko
and the promise of
an early …

spring.


~ for my dear friend Sachiko ~







Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, June 1, 2024

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