Early eruptors, bold aesthetes strutting
Peacock'd and ready for the first warm rays,
Unhindered by any other, unshaded by the lumbering giants
Slowly and steadily blocking out the sky.
Their colors shriek against relative drabness,
Blistering gorgeous rapture forced into physical space
And seared permanently into the registry of perfection,
Soul-quenching novelty, and real-life magic experienced
In such a way that all benign normalcy seems but a shadow,
Sideshow distractions to occupy the mind
Between sessions of existential rewiring
By flowers with impossible spectral flavor.
