Sakura, sakura

Cherries are more than trees. They're living poems.

It’s cherry blossom season in Tokyo, and I wanted to share my thoughts.

The sakura hit full bloom yesterday in my neighborhood, meaning our time together is drawing to a close. Now showers of pink and white petals fills the air every time the wind blows.

I eagerly await the blossoms’ arrival as the calendar changes to March every year. But I’ve never gotten used to how short their “lifespan” is.

Once the flowers appear, we get to live with them for such a short time. It’s easy to see this as pressure. But it’s really the whole reason why we love the sakura.

Even at the spectacular peak of their full bloom, the first cherry petals begin to drift away from the branches, a few at first, then over the days to come, a rain that carpets the ground. Within a week, glory has come and gone.

The sakura is a tree, but it is also a metaphor for the bittersweet impermanence of things. We treasure the cherry precisely because its beauty is as radiant as it is fleeting. It is a living poem that reminds us of ourselves.