I almost miss it, every spring:
The annual explosion at your core
Is one of such unhurried delicacy.
Like a burst of fireworks suspended,
You bloom in agonizing slow-motion.
You spread your blossoming display
Over our house like a blessing, a grace,
And the glory at your fingertips
Unfurls in your own deliberate time.
You caught my eye tonight
Without the slightest whisper of a boom
With stars and a lumpy moon
Tangled in your branches;
And your bare beauty stayed my steps.
I paused under your canopy,
While my heart whispered ooh and ahh
Like children on the first of July.