The scent of spring on a late night breeze conjures Neruda

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos

The famous D.C. cherry blossoms on one of my middle-of-the-night rides last week. Warm breeze, the scent of the blossoms and I reminisce of Neruda and the love of my life. The cherry blossoms always do that. The last two stanzas of Sonnet XIV:

My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.

I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Maybe I’m cliche and schmaltzy. I’m OK with that. Of course one Neruda poem immediately has me reading another.

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