Down the street where I live, the cherry trees spread out their slim brown arms, laden with pink and white blooms. The grass lies quiet under a carpet of silky petals, bright in the sunlight. Playfully, the sweet spring wind reaches out with her cool hands, pulling blossoms off the branches, gathering up the petals from the ground. The flowers swirl around me, landing on my face, on my clothes, in my tousled hair. It is a pink and white cloud and I am in the midst of it, laughing.