The Tulip Farm
“I am still living in my mind in the land of tulips. I think again about how beautiful our trip was. See my last blog of photos of our trip to the Netherlands. Tulips must be symbols of renewal and hope as they bloom after a cold, dark winter. The intensely colorful flowers last only three weeks and make us realize that often in life, the most exquisite times are temporary and precious. The poem that follows delves into feelings about tulips and the millions who visit them in the Netherlands.”
A chilly breeze wafts
over grey cracked clay.
The soles of our shoes
gnash puffs of ashen clouds
around our feet
until we stand in still, hushed silence
and awe.
Forty of us from all parts of the world
Journeyed to this enchanted place,
for most, thousands of miles
by plane, train, bus, or boat.
Spent thousands to be here in this
radiance stirring with mellifluous
color—tulips melting in rows
to the horizon.
Red budding petals, heavy
with their urge to burst open.
Yellow petals splayed, ready for bees.
Pink peeking above sheltering leaves.
Orange, miniature suns, shining.
Each blossom a solid sentry
atop its straight, firm stem.
Why do we feel an urge to meet on the tulip farm
to worship the beauty and magnificence
of tulips?
They come by the tens of thousands in April
to the Netherlands.
Perhaps our souls need the normalcy of nature.
Perhaps we are desperate to see fresh, perpetual
beauty in abundance.
Perhaps our hearts are starved for peace and
serenity in exquisite tulip blooms.