Amandelbloesem

Imagine the fullness he must
have felt on hearing the news:
Theo’s son, newborn, another
Vincent! A nephew close enough
to be his own. Imagine, too,
the sadness in the hope, hearing
an end to his own struggles
approaching on distant tracks.

So he made a sky whose turquoise
washes over winter whites. Still,
you can see the patches blurred
through with cold, like clouds of salt
in a Japanese pond. The branches
confuse, reaching up and yet also
across, down from the top; give yourself
a moment to see you’re looking
up from below. And the blossoms!
Tiny petals cluster here and there,
drawing your eye, white with delight.
Some branches bloom full, and early;
others, the highest, bear only buds,
held tight, yet to open themselves
and be revealed. There’s so much
to see, so much you could overlook
so easily against a winter sky,
a bright, cold morning. Some things
go by unnoticed. Some things, once seen,
change perspective. Sometimes you find
you don’t want to stop looking up.