by Kim Shuck
- Well, the plum tree fell for it.
A quick change of weather
Wet and cold
And she blooms.
As I understand it:
The smell of frustrated longing
Romantic and tragic.
It's the fourth time she's bloomed this year.
I just want to shake her
To watch the flecks of white fall.
Shake off my own impulse to
Bloom at silly moments.
How many times can she excuse herself
For making errors of inexperience?
CanŐt always let atmosphere move sap
Still, it drags us both into a false spring.
© 2005 Kim Shuck
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