blues blare through a drafty dance studio

cat jumps up,
 and warms a dancer's
lavender flannel lap

sap rises within
  the cherry trees three leaps away,
as the mercury drops...

sun rises in the frigid
forgiving march air
without a care
 to the consequences

hardened snow,
with frozen leaf chunks
let the high winds toss them
across the hardened meadow

where the live,
yet leafless -
sweet, yet flowerless
cherry trees do breathe

the ones that will wait
for the opportune time
to open their pink
soft feminine fragrance,

will allow the new baby
blossoms to cart-wheel
around the yard,

around the corner,
leaving seeds

to bury in the garden--
on the south west corner
of this brick long house

a sapling to be witnessed --
perhaps without anyone
worthy of her beauty
to notice it

perhaps to be witnessed by  
someone who would stop,
and bring the buds close

to his countenance

to whisper "love yous"
never heard with so much
warm moist breath before

 perhaps to allow
a bursting of blossoms

before the tenuous
twisting gnarled branches
of the crab apple tree

struggling to be noticed--
leaving her own heady
fragrance of deep pink,
aptly named crabby

for all the world
to take note, to wink, to be
linked in a world

too separated by definition

by a world
that struggles until
its last breath---
to be free

~words/photos~kate lamberg (c) '18