War At The Tulip Festival

An army of pretty tulips
Move to stand against April’s sun
Orange-yellow bells ringing silent when wind whips
Tall lance leaves planted like war was won.
Heavy clouds strafe blue sky
Emptying guts through mountains’ rent.
Reinforcement line raindrops charge only to die
Soaking row upon row and bulb blooms bent.
Roamers a field flee the swelling moat
Except for one small tulip seen
Wearing her mother’s childhood white overcoat
Alexandria bright, defiant as Josophiene.

Rescuing parents pluck their tot
Day turns to farmhouse parking lot.