It's Poem In Your Pocket Day, and Arbor Day, too. Yesterday, the Child and I sprawled in the cool grass of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden's Cherry Esplanade, celebrating our own private Sakura Matsuri; the official one starts tomorrow (more crowds, but also bento boxes at the cafe and taiko drummers and such). Meanwhile, poem/arborwise, this seemed to cover all the bases:
L OVELIEST of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
A. E. Housman