Outside the youth center, between the liquor store   
and the police station,
a little dogwood tree is losing its mind;

overflowing with blossomfoam,   
like a sudsy mug of beer;
like a bride ripping off her clothes,

dropping snow white petals to the ground in clouds,

so Nature’s wastefulness seems quietly obscene.   
It’s been doing that all week:
making beauty,
and throwing it away,
and making more.

by Tony Hoagland an excerpt of “A Color of the Sky”

from What Narcissism Means to Me (2003)