Cold Feet

Warm petals drifting down
Escaping from the sun
Smothering me with fragrance
I drink in their sight

They cover the sidewalk
Transform its slabs into a bridal path
Daring me to tread
On their delicate remains

The tidy tree that loses them
Is nature's modest altar
Framed in thin green veils
Waiting for once-a-year worshipers

For once, its blossom shower
Cries for attention
Appreciating praise
As it bares all.

I leave the altar's shade
Skirt the petals, leave them lying
For other, braver souls
To crush beneath their feet.