Hawthorn Blossom

Blossom drops like loose stitches
from the knitted garment of life
a pattern of secrets
woven into the whole
falling like love lost
and lace petals
from the bridal dress
twig needles click in the wind
and branches cradle a soft green gown
make way for fruit yet to be born
blackbirds nest in the hawthorn
sing in the filigree of blossom and leaves
each bird their own song
their breasts not pierced like the robin
whose single chirp
can be heard only in the thorns of winter
when snow is the cloak that covers
melts in the varying light
instead of a falling to the earth
like the loose veil of May.


sally james

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