On a walk yesterday I spotted these well-spaced blossoms, which are part of an uncultivated weeping cherry, I think. There’s a tree like this at the end of our yard, too, though until the last few years it had no space to bloom.

I ponder the pale pink of these flowers, a d their delicacy and freshness. Surely they’re an antidote to what ails us.

And yet, when I look more closely, all I see is the space between blossoms.

These
        days
              even
                    nature
                            seems
                                     to
                                        practice
                                                    social
                                                              distancing.