When a Dogwood Snowed Alabama

Stars fell on Good Friday movie night

As I emptied hot, white popcorn

Into a cerulean bowl,

Cramped kernels just now exploded

Into one-of-a-kind blossoms—

Unsalted, unbuttered, and pure—

Lightness of being in my palm scoop;

The film streamed steady blue-white flickers,

But my eyes blinked and then shut down

Dream merchant tales, as my hand turned

And carelessly snowed the midnight snack

On a Dollar Store paper towel.

The shadow of a storm lumbered

Across my hearing, and winds rose;

Raindrops punched at the skylights,

Drilling my nerves with raw desire

To drift into Saturday stupor,

The self-lulling of fools fearing

March-into-April season alerts—

The cruel upshot of the mercury

From cool midnight to midday dazzle,

Worms earth-turning a bird’s eye feast,

Jonquils trumpeting color blares,

Waves of citron and tangerine,

A thousand saucer magnolia blossoms,

Purplish-pink goblets bobbling

Tipsily on bare, breeze-riffed branches.

Easter sunrise warmed dogwood petals

To full flowering, as creamy

And rose-tinged as my mother’s cheeks.

She spared the yard’s scraggliest dogwood,

And I perched on its spreading limbs

Every April, barely poking

Above a snowy field of blooms—

Until a hot updraft touched down,

Showering white dreams on cool ground.