Playing freeze tag by the train stop, the kids slither onto the platform and sprint across grassy lots. They laugh and scream and occasionally curse.
The cherry tree holds light and shadow between its branches in perfect stillness.
It isn't an orchid show, it's a masquerade ball. Each orchid, a prince, a duke, an empress, wears a vibrant mask and sways to music in the garden.
His face is pink and stubbled, and his laugh has as much joy as he can force into it.
The branches are weighed down by a mass of magnolia blossoms. Soon the blossoms will fall to the ground and rot, but now they're still in their full flush, a decadent pink, inviting people to draw them aside as a curtain and seek privacy.
Daffodils streaming down a rocky hill.
The sound of the waterfall washes everything away, all the noise in our heads.