Pink lady on the skyline

As I walked up the hill to the station in Durham, my hands full, scalded now and then by the hot tea I carried, I was miserable and tired by my long day and stressful evening. I bent forward to put my back into the steep climb, and gasped as an incautious step caused tea to flood once again over my hand. I glanced up to the cloudy sky, turning leaden now with the gathering evening, and my eyes were caught by the trees that lined the precipice beside the road, that reached their black mourning tracery of winter branches towards the darkening sky. My eyes flitted casually along the row until they came up short, amidst the lose netting of bare fingers, against one tree in full, stunning pink blossom, that was set against that dove grey sky like something one could almost expect on a piece of Japanese porcelain. This! Amid the garish bodies of the cars in the car park, with a road sign interfering with my view of it, was passed by by all and sundry on the road, and only I paused in wonder to admire. This, a single sign that showed that winter was not forever. This, a single glimpse of pure life amidst the half life of cities. This; it was all I needed or could ask for, to pull me back from my weeks long despair.