You are the first to show off your gaudy spring plumage
and then quickly fade to a formless dull blob.
Your sickly sweet cloying odor overwhelms and offends me
–masking the other more subtle aromas of the season that I treasure.
At the first sign of stress
You crack the middle
Leaving your previously sculptured symmetry hideously disfigured.
Yet, you are everywhere I look. Everywhere I look. Everywhere I look.
Apparently for some unknown reason everyone wants you around.
You are the Paris Hilton of trees.