Planting Tulips

The Universe is not a thing, but a mode of being of everything.*

Pulled by the coming darkness, shorter days,
we reenact old mysteries
fill bird feeders, kneel in the cold ground
of November, plant
what will in time, become flame, ruffled
apricot, a parrot-fringe
of green and yellow, as tulip bulbs settle
on their satin haunches.
Feel the tides that suck at earth, no less
than the moon's
tug on the dark hammock of ocean and wait
for the lowering of winter's
iron gate. The bulb's small latern will flicker
throughout the long night;
star, ruby, firefly, your own beating heart,
all blown from
the same star-burst, all palpable with light.

*The Universe Story, Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry.

copyright 2003 Sharron Singleton