Picture: Branches With Almond Blossom by Vincent Van Gogh
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What is the most loving choice I can make?
Ask yourself, once or twice, at this momènt.
Gift of wisteria, pale, purple, awake,
God-severed. Living, you shall not repent.
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I was high above the ground, questioning
The very nature of acting, like so:
Mistake the scenery for a longing,
And you’ll plow forever, and never mow.
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This is it, I told myself, this is it;
I could see it through the branches, I could
Hear it in the pheasant’s trill, this is it;
Being still on the mother tree, I could…
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Magenta, silk white, noontime pink, they loom,
Not asking when, nor why, nor how, they bloom.
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Herons