In memory of Mary Oliver and cherry blossoms

… And under the trees, beyond time´s

brittle drift,

I stood like Adam in his lonely garden

On that first morning, shaken out of


Rubbing his eyes, listening, parting the


Like tissue on some vast incredible gift.

– Mary Oliver, Morning in a New Land

Mary Oliver, American poet and my soul mentor, crossed the threshold yesterday Between the Worlds. Sunset has some deeper meaning for me. I cannot quite grasp it or capture it in words. Not yet.

„What is worthy of the moments and sunrises ahead?“, I asked the old cherry tree in the vineyard. It did not blossom last year. Who else remembers the orgy of blossoms, wine, tears and goddess evocations it celebrated?

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