The whole tree was blooming in full glory, a testament to His resurrection. The tree dies and lives again every year, right?
The white flowers catch the sunlight, looking ablaze in the golden evening sun.
The white ones blossom first.
I stand under the tree with its heavy bunches, and look up, up, across layers and layers and layers of criss-crossed blooms of little white flowers... too thick I almost can't see the sky. I try to breathe in and smell a very light, very light scent of sakura blossom... too light like it isn't even there. I stand under the tree. Little while flowers make me think of weddings, love and happiness. Purity.