I sit outside
on a weather worn park bench
beneath a fragrant cherry tree.
Deep pink blossoms
punch a bright statement
of their presence
to the surrounding burgeoning
trees and shrubs.
With legs outstretched
on fresh green spring grass,
arms crossed below my chest,
I tilt my head toward the sun
and close my eyes.
Silence.
A cool breeze blows my hair
across my face and drops
cherry blossom kisses upon me.
Stillness follows styling
my hair abruptly in a abstract
modern art form,
casually dishevelled.
Stillness and silence;
agents sent to calm my occupied
mind, a prisoner of my own
thoughts, captive of racing
ideas and procrastination –
no focus;
Peacekeepers sent to mediate
warring factions of my
right and left brain.
Yellow sticky-note lists
battle for priority against
stacks of paper clutter and
baskets of laundry.
Birdsong can be heard.
Laughter of children, squealing
as they chase and dodge each
other. The clink of a dog
collar as it passes near.
I drift on a cherry blossom
into words of an unknown future.
I drift on the breeze like a
prayer rising to heaven,
a petition piggy-backing the
promise of spring bursting
with color and fragrance from
a dormant winter.
I drift…
And when I return,
silence and stillness remain
continuing their mediation.
My world has not changed
but my heart feels lighter
as I shake cherry blossom
petals from my hair.