I know everyone hates the bradford pear
but there’s a cluster of them blooming
on the road to work
and when I saw them
for the first time this morning
I praised God
because when the bradford pear dies
it does so in a brilliant fire of red and orange
that flails madly
in the september wind
before, with a softness,
it stops breathing
and stands crucified for months
offering only sticks and debris for kindling
until one day you wake up
to the most pungent odor
as the white flowers open to the sun
which by Easter will be replaced with
plumes of green, thick green
and death overcome
Matthew Tyson is an English teacher, avid hiker, and family man from Alabama.