The Tulip On My Table

The tulip on my table has opened wider since I first sat down. It is facing the window. Bright afternoon light bathes its flaming petals. What was once a whole is now pieces, connected at a center. Their shapes like teardrops, emanating from one point and then pulled, as if by gravity, along a plane in 6 directions, to make their form. Some bend toward, some bend away. One sees the light and the turn of the line around their outer curve. At the top of this curve there is a dip, a tiny valley, as on the top line of a classical lip. -- The colors are bright hansa yellow, cadmium red, cadmium orange; ivory black and raw umber; surprising touches of rose madder and violet -- Colors are not always as they first appear --.  In the center is the piston, yellow tinged with green. There are 6 stamen... but what if there were no names for these things... ...Another shape, small, is at the center. It grows up and then, at the top it spreads out to create a head with 3 points; like a triangle with it's flat sides pinched in. Surrounding it are 6 others. They are like stems, yellow at the base, turning to black and finishing in a delicate purple petal, caked with tiny, ochre colored granules. These tiny petals are beautiful, lily shaped, with white centers and tips that curl and twist as in a sensuous dance. -- Invisible, the fragrance is sweet and airy, like earth and sky, it smells of spring.