Plum petals show like snowflakes on the wood
beneath my feet, against the crooked limbs
above my office shed. Their whiteness skims
and flits on wind as if they understood
their blossom purpose has been served. I could
avert my glance – no other act bedims
plum petals.

They’re tufts of white throughout my neighborhood.
They have no grandeur and few synonyms,
but still they grab attention. Notice brims
and I declare a nuisance looking good –
plum petals.

(Rondine)