Cherry Blossoms

I’ve lain here so long I’ve seen nothing
become magnificent cherry blossoms

and then nothing, again

until yellow then orange then
just in these last sickly sweet days, red.

I’ve been so quiet I’ve heard the birds discuss
what is wrong with me.

The flowers are quieter, kinder. In their rotation
they don’t get to know you:

the ones with large personalities wave

and on lonelier days I wave back. Maybe
ask them their names. 

—Rose Henbest

Rose Henbest lives in rural PEI and works with her local church. She has an MA in English and Creative Writing from the University of New Brunswick and a forthcoming chapbook with Emergency Flash Mob Press.

Each month Bren Simmers selects a poem by an Island poet for The Buzz.