The Tulip Bed

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The Tulip Bed

The May sun⁠—whom

all things imitate⁠—

that glues small leaves to

the wooden trees

shone from the sky

through bluegauze clouds

upon the ground.

Under the leafy trees

where the suburban streets

lay crossed,

with houses on each corner,

tangled shadows had begun

to join

the roadway and the lawns.

With excellent precision

the tulip bed

inside the iron fence

upreared its gaudy

yellow, white and red,

rimmed round with grass,

reposedly.