I
The breeze has caught
the cherry tree ready to shed
her petals and the air
is filled with flakes.
They settle in grass
and the lee of the garden steps.
The rosebush that clasps
the creaking trellis
is speckled with white.
II
What is the time?
It is now. And the place?
The place is here.
How does now look?
It looks like here.
III
Time will take away the thrill
of dazzled air, but hope
continues along my spine
to meet the weight of earth
rising from my feet.
IV
There is no language for now;
silence will have to do.
There is no movement for now;
stillness will have to do.
V
All now is enclosed in this:
at the edge of one breath,
a petal trembles
against my wrist
and the thrush call holds
the center of one note.
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To see Sandra’s bio and read more of her work published on WIZ go here, here, here, and here.
*contest entry*
Wilderness Interface Zone 
I am a contemplative person and used to love the public gardens before I became disabled. I would sit for hours and simply “be”. This poem takes me there again– and I truly miss that place.
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I love this. I love the last two lines especially… it really gives that feel of the split-second pause, living right in the middle of it.
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