I went prompt-hunting and found this prompt from this person’s site to “write a poem that gets shorter with every line.” It might be interesting to try this out another time using the same words, just deleting one after each line.
The last lines were the hardest to write because of the length limit–it tells me a lot about my not-really-minimalistic approach to writing, to use a lot of words.
Softly the petals began to fall, at first slowly, but with
more and more rapidity and urgency, as if
they know spring will be over, that
they must let the wind take over
finally, as it was determined.
I felt myself fall, then,
into a trap of over-
I was visualizing the way that once the cherry blossoms have all finished blooming the petals all fall alarmingly fast (especially with a gust of wind), this time without new blooms that outnumber the falling petals (which is quite beautiful to see when there are still a lot of flowers left but also falling petals from the earlier bloomers.) There’s kind of a sadness to that ending, because both the branches and the ground are noticeably sparser and even the individual petals seem drabber somehow–there’s so much more potential in things that are budding, as the best part is still yet to come, even though there is less that is actually visible yet at that stage.