Once leggy, the tulips are flying now
becoming flocks of petals waving
good-byes across lawns, tumbling
yellow, red, pink and purple winds.
The storm has flung these innocents,
this raw splashing of colors unable
to find their way back to flower, turning
the grass to stained glass.
What remains of spring? Almost Holland
in a one-day bowl, almost a rainbow
gathered, almost watercolors when they
blossom, almost the world when it was new.