Red phoenix knocks on the door of time

I grew up in a small town on the plateau, where the dry season comes late, the heat is not harsh but smolders through each gust of wind. There, there is a corner of the secondary school yard that I pass by every season, only in the summer does my heart stop. The royal poinciana tree there is not as big as the ancient trees in the plains, but when it blooms, it is bright red, bustling, and captivating. The clusters of flowers are like small fires burning slowly on the branches, flaring up in the clear and gentle blue sky.

Royal poinciana trees are not numerous, not in long rows like in the Central or Northern regions, but every time you see them, they make you pause in the flow of memories. It seems that royal poinciana trees have their own kind of memories, not for the eyes but for the heart. It does not need many to remember, just one branch is enough to bring back the whole sky of childhood, bringing with it the sound of cicadas, the sound of school drums, the farewells of student years.

Back then, I used to pick royal poinciana petals to press into my notebooks, pick small petals and arrange them into butterfly shapes, then smile absentmindedly in front of my desk. No one taught me, no reason needed, just an innocent habit that I still remember every step of. The petals seemed to keep for me a whole period of my clumsy life, where my first feelings secretly blossomed in my heart.

Royal poinciana is a flower associated with farewells, but also with beginnings. When the royal poinciana blooms, the school year ends, summer knocks on the door, and childhood opens up with carefree days of wandering. There were summers when I cycled up and down the slopes, my back drenched in sweat, but I still couldn’t help but look up at the royal poinciana branches along the road. Those red flowers were like beacons: “Summer is here! Enjoy it before time slips away.”

The older I get, the more I understand that there are beauties that only appear when we know how to stop. Royal poinciana blooms briefly, summer also passes quickly, like the youth of each person - burning, passionate, but easily passed if we do not know how to live to the fullest. Once returning to my old school, I looked up at the old royal poinciana tree - the trunk was thinner, the foliage was no longer as green as before, but the clusters of flowers still bloomed proudly. I stood silently under the tree for a long time, listening to the cicadas calling for summer echoing in my heart, not from somewhere in nature, but from memory.

Everything around me is different now. The mountain passes are no longer deserted, the small town has more brightly lit shops, people come and go. But strangely, the royal poinciana flowers still retain the way they make people's hearts sink. Once I met a high school girl standing under the royal poinciana tree in the schoolyard, her eyes filled with tears as she held a camera. She said: "I want to capture the last summer". I suddenly felt like I was reflected in those eyes - a lingering and wistful look, as if all the youthful days were burning with each falling royal poinciana petal.

Royal poinciana is not only a student flower, but also a witness of time. It stands there, quietly blooming only once a year, as a reminder that each season has its own beauty, it is just whether our hearts are calm enough to feel it or not. Royal poinciana carries within itself a gentle philosophy: that beauty does not always have to be brilliant throughout the four seasons. There are beauties that only need to bloom once to be remembered for a lifetime. Like student years, like a first love, like a farewell that has not been said yet... all are engraved through the red petals.

Now, every time I return, I still spend an afternoon wandering under the royal poinciana trees. Sometimes in the old school yard, sometimes along the small, misty slope. I don’t look for the old days, I simply stand there for a long time to feel that time has passed but the memories remain. The royal poinciana flowers still bloom there, like a whisper to the past: “We used to have such beautiful days.”

And when I watch the royal poinciana flowers fluttering in the wind, I silently thank that land - not only for the pine hills and rose gardens, but also for keeping in me a royal poinciana season - the season of youth, of farewells, of beginnings and endings - in a quiet but profound way.

Source: https://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202505/phuong-do-go-cua-thoi-gian-d090b76/