The blossom is sighing on the wild cherry. Petals flutter to earth, gently, like snow. Quietly beautiful in the hedgerow, this old cherry brings joy every Spring. If you look closely, the white against green looks like a deep oil painting, crafted with perspective and unique colour. So beautiful, so rich, so wild.
It brings to mind the poem by A.E. Housman:
LOVELIEST of trees, the cherry now | |
Is hung with bloom along the bough, | |
And stands about the woodland ride | |
Wearing white for Eastertide. | |
|
Now, of my threescore years and ten, | |
Twenty will not come again, | |
And take from seventy springs a score, | |
It only leaves me fifty more. | |
|
And since to look at things in bloom | |
Fifty springs are little room, |
|
About the woodlands I will go | |
To see the cherry hung with snow. |