Catherine McGuire Cherry Bride Catherine McGuire Overnight in a thrumming rain the last cherry blossoms fell away. The tree stands with clear green leaves, like a young bride perhaps stepping out of her wedding dress, taking up work in the yard, amid the spilled confetti, the first exuberance exhausted; long mild mornings rambling like curious kin through another jade season; trees all around filling in, everyone stretching for a share of sun, every palm cupped, playful. Pink lace gone, now sleek, eager, the cherry bends and nods in a light breeze, modestly blending back into the woodland, nothing special to recommend it before the fruiting begins.
“Fruiting Limb� by E. A. Hanninen, 2010