I wish I could describe the color of the dogwood tree this morning. The blossoms have reached that particular shade which is not salmon, not red, not pale burgundy, not quite anything that can be named, but is soft and yet so vivid that it seems to be emitting light rather than reflecting it. While I was looking at it, a woodpecker began drumming at a tree nearby, filling the morning air with a sound that perfectly complemented the shape and color of the dogwood. There was something very Japanese about both the tree and the sound of the woodpecker. The scene was like an ethereal painting evoking the sound, or music evoking a vision of a landscape.
I keep thinking there must be a haiku in there somewhere, but I sure can't find it.