Explaining Myself

I called the dogwood,
shedding in the autumn wind,
a blizzard; she laughed.

Looking at the tree
and seeing snow again, I
tried to explain it:

"The flowers burst out
into the flustering breeze
like a tidal snow.

First, the white pedals
bound in the air, playing with
the soft, impish gusts.

Then they shower down
after the wind releases them,
painting the ground white.

The pedal dusting sticks,
fooling me into thinking
that it is winter."

After I explained,
she understood and agreed.
We laughed together.