New York in the Time of Blossoms

There’s a dramatic shift that takes place between the end of winter and the full flourishing of spring time. Earth beneath concrete that was for a long series of weeks colder than cold, and blossoms that went barely noted as tiny green buds see fallen petals under the thick, dripping shadows of fat, colorful flowers. Delicate, they open up to the elements and fall away, elemental, as soon as they lose lively form. They continue their cycle, a reminder to us of ours, so long as we are paying attention.

We look up when we have a chance…by chance, if we are called upon by a floating petal, a buzzing bee, a long, dancing shadow, or a concert of bold young starlings, to turn up our distracted gaze to the wonders of a season like spring. The pale, crushed petals from barely sprung blossoms tell us that this pleasure above us, around us is meant for now or never. We are now or never. Look up and rise up.


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