Red tulips, spared by the deer,
Are sprinkled in my garden
Bright as drops of blood.
They beat like brave hearts
In the warm wind of early spring,
Vulnerable, yet open
To the new day.
Some, wide open, petals splayed
In flamboyant disregard
Of unspoken conventions,
Expose quivering pistil and stamens
In radiant designs
Of seductive beauty
To the birds and the bees
And to those who have eyes to see.