Flame Tree
By John Herlihy

What am I?
Please don’t ask.
I will freely tell you,
By lifting my mask.

Scarlett is my color,
Unique of my kind.
My blush astounds me,
Driving me out of my mind.

I am full of flower;
I give no scent;
I shade my bower;
I have no discontent.

In the daytime,
I brighten the savannah,
Swaying in the wind,
Like a colorful bandana.

Take me inside,
I will color your night,
Turning the inner darkness,
Colorful and bright.

You cannot call me shy;
A flamboyant maiden the reason why.
In the distance, I appear a fiery corsage,
Burning fuzzily like a quivering mirage.

My emotion is found in rhythm.
The wind is my father.
He takes me in his arms.
My leafy fingers wave like tropical palms.

I give off no tempting odor;
I carry a woody scent.
My virtue lays in visuals
That stir no discontent.

Angelic birds with nothing to hide
Carry my seeds far and wide,
Pollinating other flowers,
Clear across the countryside.

I am the flame tree, burning bright,
Once you see me, I shine, shine, shine.
My color enflames the images of the world,
They enter the mind to become sublime.