Pink Trees

I lift my head

And I marvel at these pink Spring trees

At the way they reach their hands so far

At the way they never stop praising

Never doubt their welcome

The truth is

They make this season great

Lend their scent to the snow-cleaned air.

They’re smiling at one another

Not intimidated by one another’s brilliance

With one snap

I can pull off one flowered limb

With one steady swing

And a newly sharpened blade

I could cut them down

But no one does

They’re too beautiful to be a bother

I lower my head

And I scowl at these plain, ungrateful hands

At they way they keep themselves so hidden

At the way they forget to reach out to others

Always keep hidden

The truth is

They make this day sad