Cacti Poem by gershon hepner

The cacti were in bloom that day
alive, though they’d appeared
as dead as rocks that round them lay,
by sun and hot wind seared.
Just once a year the cacti know
they live, unlike a rock,
and with enthusiasm show
extravagance, and shock
the world around them that lies arid,
while splashing living color,
like people who’d thought being married
had made their life much duller.
They celebrate just once each year,
because they’re still together,
and seem a couple, bright and dear,
a strange break in the weather.

5/5/98