Looking for Cherry Blossoms

It looks like an Indian summer. We expect the seasons to play in rhythmic measures, but we can't foresee the staccatos even if they're just a few beats ahead. And right now I'm off beat. I'm stuck rewinding the old melody we played together and listening to the out of tune notes you sang. Maybe the dry sake, cheap cigarettes, and dumb projects will burn the song out of my head, into smoke - where the wind can sprinkle it throughout the night sky. I hope ashes make for good fertilizer. I haven't seen a cherry blossom in a while and I'd like to plant one.