The vegetation outside my kitchen window,

Unwatered in this so‑far rainless place,

Previously undistinguished‑looking,

Started sprouting flowers,

One sprout after another,

Ushering in September;

Seven weeks later, now,

This is still going strong  

At first each pointed green bulb

And the purple petal like a horn above it

Together form an open beak

While the pair of orange petals

Standing straight up

Resemble nothing so much as

A jackal's ears  

In time more ears appear per bulb,

And more horns as well,

As these beauties continue unfolding;

These plants, that I have since learned

Are called "birds of paradise,"

Form a flock of flowers

Colorfully roosting out front;

Though rooted, they take flight

Through the spectrum of delight