Tulips on Easter

Easter morning. The moon still up
and the sun just rising.

It is cold. Precisely forty degrees.
Wind is blowing sharp from the north.

My dog and I go to see the tulips.
It’s our morning walk.

They are red, yellow, orange and white. 
All are closed up tight.

You might as a man think of virgins: 
everything pristine

and stems erect as steeples.