Bloomed

Curiously, a flower bloomed on the withered up tree.

A lot of flowers have bloomed.

Tiger lilies bloomed in the garden.

The bright warm sun shone on a little court, on the first warm day of spring. His bright beams rested on the white walls of the neighboring house; and close by bloomed the first yellow flower of the season, glittering like gold in the sun's warm ray.

In mid-winter, when all outside vegetation was bleak and bare, the Christmas-tree in our parlor bloomed in many-colored beauty and bounty.

Her cheeks bloomed with the faint pink that edges the clouds at sunset.

The magnolias bloomed.

The tulips have bloomed.

A hyacinth bloomed in the flowerpot.

In the morning of the 12th of March of 2022, I took a long route going to the cafe. I saw Eurasian children with brownish hair in the Lulu Island neighbourhood. I saw that the cherry blossoms had not yet bloomed in the school yard. I sat in the gazebo to gaze at the grey-sky landscape. I saw my big neighbour in a grey jacket and black pants, as he looked like promenading fat Maitreya Buddha. At the cafe, drinking my iced black tea, I chatted with the brunette barista Sarah from Montreal about how the cherry blossoms seemed late this year. I went to the quiet pizzeria, and Rose the Filipina was unusually there on a Saturday. Eating pizza, her son John-Paul was there, who did not want to go to martial-arts class today, because of feeling too lazy. I ate a slice and drank cold diet cola.