on the tallest finger of the oldest cherry tree
out in the midst of the green
The bees wait for it
slowing their buzz in their waxy cones
to better hear the report
The birds keep up a constant pattern
across the nondescript sky
drifting on silent breezes with cocked heads
The sun lingers day by day
each day a minute longer or two
just to see, just in case
The loudest rupture comes in spring
on the tallest finger of the oldest cherry tree
With the first petal sprung
Spring sounds out across the green.
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