The Cherry Tree
by John Herlihy
________________________________________
The cherry tree feels naked, bereft of leaves;
The humble sapling stands proudly at ease,
Firm in anticipation and without regret,
Against a gray winter sky, traced in silhouette.
Cherry blossoms bloom but once a year,
Each one of them akin to a solitary tear.
The seeds lie dormant during winter’s death,
Waiting patiently to take their first breath.
The buds emerge suddenly as tender sprouts,
Gazing about wonderingly at their whereabouts.
Touched by dawn light and bedecked with dew,
Their enfolded petals stirred as the wind blew.
The carriage of life is driven by spring rains—
Sweet raindrops of grace holding the reins.
Watery freshness seeks the flower’s heart;
This renewal lets the bud’s beauty depart.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the petals unfold;
Their colors come alive, a vivid picture to hold.
Reds and pinks cast their perfect hue,
Turning the bloom’s face toward heaven’s blue.
There it now stands—the full‑blown cherry tree,
The miracle of creation for all the world to see.
If any among us are inclined to doubt,
Let them witness the birth of a tender sprout.
—
Copyright © John Herlihy
Sunday 20 September 2026
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