Agapanthas

The agapanthus step out from underneath the curtain
Gardeners do not attack upon the stalk of bloom
Tentacles of summer stretching into the season
Time spinning around the bulbs
The grunge of the fungi leaves the orchids to forgive

Those damn stalks burn their blooms into the dry sun
Cells dried upon the flower, like flesh from bone.
Still like the casketed, painted like stone
Where the forever is not a matter of debate
But only matters as to interpretation

The leaves of grass sing, where the embers of spring die
The flowers of before bloom eternal
And ideas of tomorrow could never bloom.
Theorizing science is the nature of man
Whereas the nature of Nature is to consider none of this