''Old plum tree bent and gnarled

All at once opens 🌸 one blossom, two blossoms,

three, 🌸 four, five blossoms, uncountable 🌸 blossoms, 🌸

not proud of purity,

not proud of fragrance 🌸

spreading, becoming spring,

blowing over grass and trees


Whirling, changing into wind, wild rain,

falling, snow, all over the earth.

The old plum tree is boundless.''

🌸

My life has lost
An 86 year old treasure
Who had little use for flowers
But who loved fruit
In his hungry life
Now I shall hope
He may spend some days being
A gnarled old plum tree
Able to produce both countless blossoms
And abundant sweet plums
As easily as standing
Under blue skies
In a green field
In heavens breeze.

My sweet friend and love
I pray you have joy now
And not only peace.

Wow. Chills.

Your poem was answered by dancing Cranes 🌸