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Red Tulips



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.

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