Karen Jiang 

When you open this letter

The snow will have melted away.

Inside, a camellia bud—silent, expectant—waits,

Gently wrapped in ice,

A sunset of sanguine petals, suspended

If frozen, will we live to see it bloom?
When the last ice melts, 
Time will reclaim what I tried to preserve.

Should you part with the thawing snow,

I wish, one day, you will find a similar letter

One you can keep and grow. 

Branches, roots, streams of undulating light, 
A wisteria beyond my age sits,
Lending a petal
Two hundred petals
In the wind, a single soul
Rests in its own shadows.
Where is time? 
Microseconds amble by. 
Does all life come from dust? 
All life returns to dust.