Some are green buds 
Barely begun 
But pushed 
By the weight of the universe 
To become 
First the pursed lips 
Of an imminent kiss, 
Then the ripe indulgence 
Of a beauteous flower
Generous scent 
Wished to all, 
Then loose 
With joy
As petals relax and fall 
Scattered like confetti
Abandoned 
As the church bells toll 
Marking the ever-passing moment 
Of celebration.