by Jim Farfaglia
They smile from slender branches,
happy to have survived the winter,
their sweet joy perfuming the air
whenever the wind happens through.
They drop off one by one
and gather on the new-green grass:
a fruit tree’s lucky coins,
tossed on a backyard wishing pond.
They look back at their yellow stars
still clinging to those limbs
and pregnant with the season’s harvest –
such a noble reason for a blossom’s falling.