CUL-DE-SAC

We came for cherry blossoms in the Japanese garden.

March brings chilly air and then begs our pardon

For the strong winds that rustle the tops of tall trees

While the white and red flowers attract tourists and bees.

Cherry blossoms make us think of Japan and such places

Gravel paths show the way and the flowers are graces.

Wisteria hangs from a pergola’s tall cover

Flowers caste their sweet scents, I match pace with another

Who walks slowly. Speaks softly and builds our relation.

I came here to meet her with great expectation

That she’d know me and trust me so we could meet alone.

We take turns telling secrets. Eat lunch and head home

I hold her once more, take my leave but she stays.

Cherry blossoms will be there for several more days.

I fell, tore my hand on the way to the game at the school,

My now bloody hand that I wrapped with concession stand napkins.

We entered the arena where everyone watched as the boys,

They ran down the court with a ball that darted between them.

And the wall to wall crowd swayed in place and it moaned with each ball tap

And mishap, the object of putting it into the hole.

That hole in the hard orange circle that is like a charm

And the ball that they held like the body of Christ in their fingers

Then lifted it into a great graceful arc so it entered

The hole and was caught oh so gently by ropes that were white

And the arena would thunder with a rapturous call to the team.

My hand, it still bleeds like our saviors stigmata in a room

Full of rabble that cheer most profane in a temple of scorn

‘Til a boy lifts the ball to the sky, and it’s stuffed in the circle.

The hall thunders more ’til we leave for our cars in a bunch

Moving slow. Now the service is done and maybe we won.