All spring the tulips 
trapezed along a string 
of isolate storms
to arrive at the bright edge 
of the season 
weathered threadbare.

Even now  
the wind rears 
like a hurrah of horses
trouncing their flame silks  
into banners of light.

Behold the lungta,
watch them billow —
each petal a prayer flag 
tethering 
the earth to the sky.

– Megan Muthupandiyan