Grandma's Osmanthus Tree

The osmanthus tree is still there. Grandma has been gone for a year, and it has bloomed for a year. Golden blossoms carpet the bamboo bed and the bluestone slab where she used to sit. She used to knock the osmanthus down with a bamboo pole while I caught it below. Now no one knocks it down. The flowers bloom, then fall, and rot into the soil. But every autumn, it still blooms with all its might, filling the whole courtyard with its fragrance, as if someone were still waiting to smell it.