A flower needs to be this size <br />to conceal the winter window, <br />and this color, the red <br />of a Fiat with the top down, <br />to impress us, dull as we've grown. <br /> <br />Months ago the gigantic onion of a bulb <br />half above the soil <br />stuck out its green tongue <br />and slowly, day by day, <br />the flower itself entered our world, <br /> <br />closed, like hands that captured a moth, <br />then open, as eyes open, <br />and the amaryllis, seeing us, <br />was somehow undiscouraged. <br />It stands before us now <br /> <br />as we eat our soup; <br />you pour a little of your drinking water <br />into its saucer, and a few crumbs <br />of fragrant earth fall <br />onto the tabletop.<br /><br />Connie Wanek<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/amaryllis-4/
