If no thistles grow
 
among my sweet pea blossoms,
 
let me be content.

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Perhaps I’d enjoy,
 
if my lover were with me,
 
these thistle blossoms.

 
 
 

spring melancholy—
 
inevitable, it seems,
 
when plum blossoms fall

 
 
 

Six days past Easter
 
my plum tree drops its blossoms—
 
snowflakes in the grass.

 
 
 

My backyard plum tree,
 
on the day after Easter,
 
still flaunts its blossoms.

 
 
 

On Easter morning
 
the plum tree in my backyard
 
flaunts fresh white blossoms.

 
 
 

Ninth day of April—
 
my daughter-in-law’s cancer
 
blooms with abandon.