Cherry blossoms
Powdered algorithms
Cracking open the shell
Of winter’s code
Riot in pink
Currents
Speak them in riddles—
Syllabary of scatter and petals
Branches hold this brief madness
Like monks caught laughing
In the middle of a fast
No nostalgia
No apologies
In these pastel eruptions
Only the fierce syntax
Of becoming
They fall, yes
But fall like strategy
In calculated drifts
Negotiating gravity
Not romance
This is architecture
This is renaissance in floral design
This beauty is not gentle
But iterative
Tomorrow, the streets
Will wear their blush
Ankle-deep with the proof
That something exquisite
Can arrive without warning
And change
Everything
