Amaryllis (Grey Held)
Every spring, when my sons were young, I’d put a potted amaryllis bulb on our sill, stick a ruler in the dirt for the pleasure of measuring rapid growth--the perfect metaphor for the quick results Wall Street day-traders crave. I envisioned the poem as a 1930’s style advertisement painted on a bricked building-- the paint now “ghosted” by weather and time.
Every spring, when my sons were young, I’d put a potted amaryllis bulb on our sill, stick a ruler in the dirt for the pleasure of measuring rapid growth--the perfect metaphor for the quick results Wall Street day-traders crave. I envisioned the poem as a 1930’s style advertisement painted on a bricked building-- the paint now “ghosted” by weather and time.
Every spring, when my sons were young, I’d put a potted amaryllis bulb on our sill, stick a ruler in the dirt for the pleasure of measuring rapid growth--the perfect metaphor for the quick results Wall Street day-traders crave. I envisioned the poem as a 1930’s style advertisement painted on a bricked building-- the paint now “ghosted” by weather and time.