The Blossom-Fall Path

A narrow path wound through an orchard where the petals of apple blossoms had begun to fall. They fluttered down with the breeze like pale pink snow, settling into a soft blanket on the grass. I walked slowly, the ground beneath my feet whispering with every step.

Each petal, I thought, had bloomed with all its strength—and now, without struggle, was letting go.

An old gardener pruning a nearby tree looked up and nodded. “This is how spring teaches,” he said. “The flower doesn’t cling. It returns to the soil, and the tree begins again.”

It struck me: there is harmony in release, and balance in knowing when the time has come to yield. I walked on, my steps quieter now.