Sakura

On Osaka mornings
spirits glide easy
over the ponds
and the timeless
lacquer-red bridges.

Cherry blossoms rise,
tiny suns in the morning fog;
clouds - old man's beard,
on the face of Mt. Kongo.

Free here, a half-world away,
our daughter's smile
young strangers here borrowed it --
and I silently send you
my daily bouquet of regret.


© Jonathan Bohrn (2002)