The pink sprigs are arranged in round black garbage pails.
Cold water poured into the circled bottom for the stalks to soak and swim.
Branches strained for sky, waiting, on the first Friday in April for Sunday service.
Light streams through stained glass panels of blue, white, green and gold.
The flowered color patterns make shadows on the blank white walls.
Sun streaks create halos around the talking heads in the cold air of the hall.
Metal snips are on the table, ready for the prune.
Small sprigs and stems are cut without order on the brown folding table.
The room echoes sounds of laughter and the traffic of feet in and out of the metal chairs.
Sounds of voices and smells of flowers drift up to the rafters of the cathedral vaulted space.
All things wait for Sunday service in the spring.
Pink cherry blossoms waiting in black plastic pails,
reaching for colored morning sun light streaming through stained glass windows.
Waiting, blossoms in cold air, cold water, ever waiting for a ceremony, to be sprung.
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