Through hope–or laziness

My amaryllis, a five-year-old bulb, my mother

Says it will not flower this year, throw it out;

I resist, ever the contrary child, and am rewarded

With not one but three blooms: candy-colored,

White, and green, three trumpets of the spring.

I’ve muttered resentfully about the snow and wind

Wishing for a green surprise amidst the brown

And then, out of that dry husk, a pale slim spear

Rose skyward, became two leaves that faded

Yellow, decayed to brown, and then another

Spear of green and then an unexpected guest:

A closed promise slowly opening

In sweet song, a flower so large

It almost upsets the plant, and then another,

And another.

I weigh the plant down with odd coins

And the blooms rise exalting, extraordinary,

Alien and wondrous among my house plants.

The world’s still at odds,

I’m grumpy at my job,

My love life is….

But I proved my mother wrong:

I have three flowers from a husk.

So points to me and you

And to anyone who through hope

Or laziness

Leaves a husk alone

And lets it flower.

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