There was once a bouquet of tulips on our kitchen windowsill.
After a while, it got to looking pretty bad.
(According to my wife…)
Despite spousal pressure—–
I managed to keep from having to throw it out for almost a month.
Even in aging and deteriorating.
Even in collapse and petal fall.
Even in death, that bouquet kept giving and giving.
On sunny afternoons, when light shone in the kitchen window —
Shadows would move across the counter.
Strange, wonderfully shaped shadows.
Contrasting lights and darks.
Which is real, the thing or the shadow?