The tulips languish, sodden,
(those not by rabbit eaten)
jonquils merely leaf
cold-weary, winter-beaten.
A miser’s hand apportions
the flowering of this spring
there’s scant delight in the meadow
and nary a daffy-down-dilling.
But from windless cozy house
a trumpeting four-in-one
sings out to the colorless garden:
“I’ll show you how it’s done!”
It quadruple megaphones
“You can be like me, yay, verily!”
the concerted garden response
comes back somewhat raspberrily.
With thanks and apologies to Shakespeare.
April 25, 2018 at 11:33 pm
That’s right – take that outside. 🙂
April 26, 2018 at 12:55 am
Indeed, that amaryllis wouldn’t last five minutes!