Blossom

There’s this life and no hereafter –
I’m sure of that
but still I dither, waiting
for my laggard soul
to leap at the world’s touch.

How many May dawns
have I slept right through,
the trees courageous with blossom?
Let me number them…

I shall be weighed in the balance
and found wanting.
I shall reckon for less
than an apple pip.