Tend the garden where the tulips grow. Moisten soil, sun drench. When leaves faint and wither, resuscitate. Let the scented air blow through the cosseting leaves. The soft and solid kiss of zephyr release memories of long ago verdant trysts and the undying season that suddenly ceases except for living ghosts, brushed and painted on the landscape below — the living canvas overflowing with effervescence, a bouquet blossoming in the open arm boughs of paradise. 11/19/2019