Tokyo.

When I open the car door,
a soft, sweet scent drifts out—
something that faintly reminds me
of almond tofu.

The red plum tree in the garden is in full bloom.
It was already in full bloom
when I went to the forest house on Thursday,
or so I thought—
but today, it is blooming even more.

Against the clear winter sky,
the crimson flowers stand out vividly.

This is the coldest season of the year.
And yet, the flowers bloom
as if none of that matters,
with an utterly untroubled air.

“Spring will come again this year,”
the plum blossoms seem to whisper.

It will be over soon,
Harsh seasons too.