Almond Petals

One simple, sweet interlude of life,
On par with "stopping to smell the flowers,"
Is to spend, nay invest, a quarter hour
Under a blossomed almond tree
Watching the petals fall,
Launched in ones, twos and threes
By bumbling bees or a pushy breeze.

The drifting spots
Are not exactly like
Shooting stars
Or falling flakes of snow,
But not entirely unlike them either.
A slow-slow meteor shower
A peaceful floral flurry.

But the steady downfall
Finally flecks the ground
In a speckled, spangled
Splattering of white.
Each oval petal pure white
Except for a tiny dot of red.

A sporatic pattern so erratic in pieces,
Yet so uniform overall,
Collectively dazzling the eye
And soothing the soul.