Spring Wildflowers — Image by kenne
A STROLLING MINSTREL’S BALLARD
OF THE SKULLS AND FLOWERS
Dahlia, Amaryllis, Iris,
Flaunt their fragrance and their flair
As roman candles arc, desirous
To burst new treasures on the air,
Spill out their color and their scent
And whistle down the rambling bee.
When dazzle and pizzazz are spent
And every garden’s luxury
Of blossom’s gone to shreds or hock,
Where is that glamourie and that mask;
When January whips the stalk
What memory stills the rattled husk?
By lurch and stumble, change and growth
Struggling from all fours, we fise
Cranking the backbone up, though loath.
To lift our skull into the skies
Where the lit eye blinks out its longing,
Gathers the world, then from that height
Sends hosts of bright ideas thronging
Like fireflies sparking up the night.
What are the perfume and that pollen
Or all the brain’s fine fireworks worth
Once socket, stalk and spine have fallen
As acrid, black ash drifts to earth?
— W.D. Snodgrass
