A Girl Like You
At the Altar of My Fifth Year
Boy,
Carat, Cut, Color, Clarity
Midnight in Paris
New Year's Trip
Self-Portrait as My Father’s Son
The Chemistry of Distance
The Moon Children
The Safest Sex Is Absence
Too Many Questions About Strawberries
Vapors
Weeping Cherry
Weeping Cherry
Linda Pastan
Our cherry
with its tortured limbs,
its writhing poses—
like some Dada sculpture
as it practices its beautiful
contortions all winter long—
is tricked out for April
in pastel blossoms,
like an old woman pretending
to be young in a new
and much too pink spring hat.
So when a wind comes up
and scatters all that color,
I am almost relieved as I stare
from the window at the fallen blossoms.
Though spring intoxicates with its tide
of green, its flowers, winter
has stricter compensations.
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with its tortured limbs,
its writhing poses—
like some Dada sculpture
as it practices its beautiful
contortions all winter long—
is tricked out for April
in pastel blossoms,
like an old woman pretending
to be young in a new
and much too pink spring hat.
So when a wind comes up
and scatters all that color,
I am almost relieved as I stare
from the window at the fallen blossoms.
Though spring intoxicates with its tide
of green, its flowers, winter
has stricter compensations.