Cherry blossom petals

blowing daintily,

landing scattershot

carpeting the lawn with freckles

all the way down —

ashes to ashes.

Mounds of blushing porcelain

find rest

atop

a tire-marked

fox carcass

by the roadside.

“I will bring you home.”

The vulture does no harm,

it does only what it must.

Soaring high

with a keen eye,

for the wary.

An unending journey

to find the lost,

and guide them

back to the origin.

All long walks

must end

somewhere.

Carried on updrafts,

petals blow past

grazing deer

gazing fondly

at napping fawns —

dust to dust.