The morning unfolds as intently as the seven shocked paperwhites on the kitchen windowsill. These eager bulbs arrived in the mail just days ago as a jumble of almost onions in a bed of empty skins, each with a single greedy green talon already demanding light.
Now, they grow in reverse, diving into the sunny glass, the summery water, to establish tethers. Tomorrow, the unfolding will gain altitude, structure.
Days later, as winter will flower on the morning lawn in frost that crunches under the kitten’s paw, and the kitchen will don the vestments of spring; These resolute tubers will overnight transform from fledgling shoots to a constellation of snowy florets.
And, their irrefutable perfume will force us to another season.