Birds on the blossom

From the window I hear traffic and arguments. 3 different languages. People never stop, even for the rain. You can hear them tear the puddles apart. What could need such haste? Inside everyone has something to say. Nothing to hear.

Outside in the cherry blossoms I see birds cower.  Amidst the dying bloom, the birds still singing. The tree so far away from home. Life isn’t so bad after all.

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