Bella, Sakura

We never know when we will blossom
into what we’re supposed to be. It might
be early. It might be late. It might be after
thirty years of failing at a misguided way.
Or the very first time we dare to shed
our mental skin and touch the world.
--Mark Nepo, “Reduced to Joy.”


Laughing with joy, she bares her face to raindrops and petals. 

Never again will she be four years old under the cherry blossoms on a rainy day in Portland. And wasn't it lovely.

A few more here.