Ash Wednesday Poem (several years old)

Ash Wednesday

Thursday
the first day of March
in the year of our Lord
two thousand and
—one—:
there are flowers here that
weren’t here the day before yesterday.
It’s the first day of Lent,
and the flowers have grown.
Something happened yesterday.
It was Wednesday.
Ash Wednesday.
The day of the earthquake.
These flowers weren’t here on Tuesday.
They were pushed out of the ground early:
expelled by jolts,
waves of agony:
here purple crocuses
butter daffodils
tiny violets
blinking in the weak sunlight.
Trees, too
soft pink blooms stretching
as if shaken from slumber.
First day of spring
overnight
no dress rehearsal
just cold script reading.
Spring on the way
summer soon after.
Who forced the shake?
Who was anxious for flowers?