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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Tulips for Jackie and Michael

I am putting my hands
in the soil.
Tulips for spring.
Cups for the drinking
of rain falling in April.
The sky was burning last night.
Orange flames
rising above the cold world.
Advent of winter.

In the spring
there will be tulips of fire,
lapis lazuli sky,
the pale rose of the eclipsed moon.
I keep digging,
putting in the bulbs.
As many rows as I can plant.
I emptied my pockets
to buy them.
Gave away pleasures
to have them near me.

To bring beauty
close to my heart.
To delight my little boys,
Jackie and Michael.
To open up in the plain garden,
jewels created in the earth,
where we put the dead,
and show them,
from that sarcophagus,
comes life again.
Nothing is wasted.
Nothing is lost.
I am teaching them
to plant miracles.

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