“Do I know you from somewhere?” 

The wind whispers in familiarity as it snatches sakura petals from the trees, 

And carries them in a downward spiral as they drift aloft, 

Scattering as they leave the ground washed in rose pink. 

A woman carrying a wooden basket bends down and gathers 

Armfuls of the fragile blossoms. 

She walks along the wooden bridge, pausing as she reaches

The koi fish pond, smiling as the fish circle around the

Floating, pink cherry blossoms falling from the sky. 

One lands on her nose. 

She passes by excited conversations and pointed fingers,

Directing eyes towards the pastel clouds floating above the dreamy flower haze.

She takes the cherry blossoms home to brew sakurayu, 

As she always has since the age of nine, forever mystified by

The sight of the tea—feathery petals ripple and bloom like jellyfish under warm water. 

It is the first month of Spring in Japan, 

And cherry blossoms are already falling.