Do the Cherry Trees Know the World is Going to End?

a short form from sitting in the city waiting for a storm

I live at rock bottom in the Heights. It’s a beautiful mid-April Saturday morning, sitting outside tucked away in my little marble corner amidst the cherry blossoms. I chose the only spot splashed with sunlight not twenty minutes ago, and already it’s been covered up by encroaching clouds. I’ve been told a thunderstorm is coming later in the afternoon. I’m not concerned; the trees don’t seem to be either, and the weatherman too is back-tracking on…