The river is flowing,
the water is gently rushing
over rocks,
violently over others.
It is relaxing.
It is nearing the end of winter,
but there is no snow.
The birds are flying high
and the breeze is cool.
Everyone is talking,
sitting on the grass,
soaking up the rare
bit of sun we get to see.
I spot an apple blossom tree
not yet in bloom,
for it is still much to cold.
I sit under it and
imagine it in full bloom.
I imagine its beauty,
its scent.
The breeze is cool
and people are soaking up
our rare glimpse of sun.
I become one with the
apple blossom tree.
