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In the dark
the pale cherry blossoms
are a ghost.
I hardly know them,
but for their scent.

Bright lights
have made me blind.
I see through
my other senses--
the smell of spring,
the cool rain on my skin,
the rush of rain through the fir trees.

The mailman delivers
a neighbor's package to my door.
I relish the thought
of ringing their doorbell.
Delivering the box--
a chance to say hello.