There is no way to know
The potential that lies hiding under the surface for
Forty weeks of brown straight laced dirt rows so
Plain they go unnoticed.
Like any other farm land in the valley
They could grow corn, could yield beans
Could be anything that will soon sprout forth green;
Truly drive-by fly-over dull.
In late February the still frosted ground cracks open
As spear shaped shoots emerge from non descript bulbs,
Awakening from their winter sleep buried deep
And arising consistently uniformly predictably green.
Yet April sun and rain ignite a palette so glorious,
Arrayed in stripes bright enough to cause a dazzling retinal singe;
Such varied and blended hues cause my eyes to well up with
Grateful tears to witness anything as wondrous as this grounded rainbow.
Transiently incandescent tulip blossoms cup and swallow the sky,
Pulling the blue down to earth where this rainbow dwells
So brilliant, within reach, no longer just the stuff of longing promises
But actually held in the arms until taken home, and then displayed, fragile, in crystal.
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