Cactus

The cacti are flowering -
a birthday month 
lush fuschia pink
and icy white
break in waves
from dry grey soil.

Sun and water
even measures 
made them bloom -
from deserts come
soft, bright tongues 
pushing light 
through the dark

to taste the outer air 
and eat, refreshed.
The spirit thrives
in thirst and silence
dearth and plenty
dryness, water, sun
sinking-in
then lavishing 
extravagance.

Whence it came, thought-seed
to be what it was
then become 
other than
a green and prickly self?

metamorphoses 
transfiguring
my kitchen shelf.

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