Truly, the cherry blossoms are quite pretty around where I live (map), thankfully neglected by the majority of both tourists and locals alike. While sitting with Anthony under some blossoms yesterday, I thought about how many have tried to put the feeling into words, and how they certainly must have failed. Not being one to pass up a chance to fail miserably, I've given it a go myself:
Oh humble Cherry Tree
Passing the year in quiet slumber
Alive after the long winter
Heavily laden with Spring's finest glory
Beauty beyond the grasp of words
Not retarded crap like poetry
the end
Unfortunately calling poetry “retarded crap” says more about you than it.
Ouch, a bit touchy today, Zak? Remind me to not to tell you what I think of shakuhachi. (JUST JOKING! 🙂 ) —Jeffrey