connect the verbal pointilist dots

Photos. You say you want images. It's a visual world, you declare. Graphics. Pix. Photos. Depictions. But images cannot capture it, this, that, the general and the specific, the particulars that add up; can't capture the tactile embrace or the fragrance; the sequence; can't delineate the processing poetically. We're talking about a Hallmark cliche of springtime with all of its dials turned to the right, with all of its digital reality off the map, into a new reality. Shores of redbud blossoms a breath-taking lavender but not lavender curled and cornered and drifted by breeze. Confetti of flowering crabapple petals, the leftovers of a drunken wedding, inebriated by perfect pitch, the exact moment a blossom has its moment in the sun or rain and showers, cascades to the ordinary sidewalk, the strewn road. Now, that's bloomsday allright!