A Poem by Illia Thompson

Relocation  

Father brought springtime
carried branches of beginning plum blossoms
the half-hour subway ride from Manhattan to Queens
walked the eight long blocks home
cradled unborn blooms wrapped in white paper
presented them to mother.

She placed them on red Formica counter
peeled back protective coverings
before she opened the cupboard door
took a tall earthenware vase and placed
an arrangement on the living room table
near the plate glass window.

Pale pink peered from brown buds
unfolded into clustered petals
allowed faint aromatic presence
to evoke notions of oriental romance. 
No thoughts of trees missing leaves
birds searching for nests or bees in lust for pollen.

My father gathered gestures
delicate as plum petals
silent as early spring perfume
sad as the ache of cut branches.