The Cherry Tree

Hard snow grains

sugarcoat the campus lawn,

sting my cheeks and fog my glasses.

It's a white-out world

of soaked jeans and streaming eyes,

clumping Roots boots

plowing up the hill.

Now I see it –

a cherry tree

shivering with her roots in the snow.

Brittle golden leaves, still on the branches,

rattle off their rhythm of defiance.

I've seen that tree in April, showing off

her ruffled pink sundress of blossoms.

"Hang in there," I tell her,

breathing steam.

"Only two months to go."