I thought to write a paean in praise
of allium. Their bright geometries,
rigorous and true, embody modern days,
outshine the ancient botanies.
But such standards sharp and fine
offer no space for human need
or weakness of the heart and mind;
perfection rises from each seed
or rather, bulb. Let’s be precise —
there’s solace in the certain word;
when all else fails, it will suffice.
So sing my praise and hope it’s heard,
of foxglove, hollyhock and rose,
comfort for all present woes.