Dawn of the Dead III

In the corner of my new garden
the first deep green
of tulip leaves push against a rock,
thrust towards the sun
hoping to be seen.
They’re monstrous really,
these sprouts.
waking up from the dead,
springing from the earth
insistent, omnipresent, compelling.
They will bloom by God
bidden or not.
By April they will stand erect
and command our attention.
They’ll make us sigh.
and like Ecstasied zombies
we’ll rip off our clothes
and roll out the barbecues.
Ah, spring we’ll whisper
as red and yellow petals sink
into fresh earth
where earthworms lie in wait.