Spider Lilies

I don’t know how
you do it every year:
Timing your entrance
Like a debutante
At her “coming-out” ball,
Casting her eyes about,
Making sure that
All the others are
Dressed in their drab
Browns and grays.
You stand,
Your slender body
Poised and elegant,
Laughing at the wind,
Who is whispering secrets,
While his hands are
Rustling your ruby
Red hair.