Hikaru
Doug Stuber
One cherry blossom detaches, falls, a single unit
allowing fruit its space, starting its new journey: island
to reflecting pond, orchard to cottage yard, daughter to
lover, enhanced by the wind, if even for only six seconds.
Transformed to long-boned genius, long-yearning adult,
considerate friend, purple-green plaid from soft pink,
tan suede boots from four-petalled bloom. Hikaru, as they
say in Japan, hits the town running, arms crossed, cradling
herself like the war-torn victims of Vietnam, but not
worn or torn, she flings enthusiastic youth toward
outstretched limbs. She captures her beginning and future
simultaneously, shedding one form, embracing another,
sweating humid Spring, still awkward in this skin.
Descending unannounced, she moves among mere mortals
Spreading joy, quietly demanding obedience, offering all
in exchange for all. Most cannot accept, choose an
easier, less complicated path; but those blessed metamorphosed
beings who join Miss Cherry soon realize for one day,
week, or lifetime, their lives will never be the same.
About the Author
Doug Stuber is a visiting professor at Chonnam University in Gwangju, Korea. He toured the U.S. for 15 years as a rock bassist and vocalist; he has exhibited art on four continents for 30 years, and will publish his seventh volume of poetry in 2009.
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