"Signs of Life"
The tulips are rising from the ground
as if, having heard their name,
they suddenly walked toward the sound
of winter’s stone rolling away.
One by one, their buds loosen and blush
crimson, fuchsia, boysenberry.
For the first time their unwrapped
faces see and are seen.
I cut one of each color
and bring their green-stemmed mouths
to the cup of water. Arranged
on the windowsill they bow respectfully