Tulips Forever

Tulips are forever primal
atop thin stems.
It’s days before they go viral. 
Then pristine cups explode 
as if by match
into vibrant flames of beauty.

Tulips burn but a few Spring days 
and then collapse 
as perishable as cigarette ash. 
Left is the stem,
for a time erect, then bends,
bows down, and dies.

But underground, 
bulbs unseen for a year
like a dream survive
and revive as with joy 
in the Spring,
first to force a spear, 

then precocious bud
that in truth is but a burst of color: 
much as a poem 
that once you loved
may appear 
in a random book.

The effect it has
is the true glory of art:
to retain in time 
the impersonal impact of beauty:
so bring forth again
remembered,

so that we may say:
Tulips remembered from youth 
show precisely how 
I perceive today’s floral offering: 
perishable in every way,
yet gay, unblemished.