You burst into bloom like a sudden flash of illumination, elixir of spring.
Quick, I must paint you! Explore your myriad shades of pink, frame you in silver, make you immortal.
Quick, I must write of your furled blossoms and fragrance! Glorious haiku bright with promise – April’s shyness, May’s delight.
Even now, amid happy bees and floating butterflies, gentle spring hurtles toward blazing summer, and these soft sunlit days are fleeting.
Even now, the light changes. You’re different – fading, withering.
Even now as I hold spring in my hands, you’re gone – too soon, too soon.