“If you are buried under a flamboyant tree, your soul is lifted up when it flowers.”
– Jean Rhys
It was February and the spring was early in her bloom.
That was what struck me;
how I could smell the white.
The color of the sun,
the warmth
so early.
I must remember, though, that life
comes up again
from underground.
Later, on my balcony, I would speak to the trees—
to their blossom—
and know
your soul
had been lifted.
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