An epiphany inspired by an imperfect movie — I don’t want to wait
until I die
to realize all cherry blossoms
are perfect
Whether withered,
blighted, nipped in the bud,
wind-frayed, faded,
unfurled as enigmatically
as tonight’s foggy sky,
as unexpectedly as a sneeze,
yellow watermelon, or green flash
at sunset Whether what now,
this morning,
arises
is…