Lilies

there they are, on the table
left from last week's celebration
a little wilted, a little brown

we have some at church
still around for their third Easter
big and green and vibrant

they haven't bloomed for two years
but they look better than these
whose trumpets remain from Sunday

on his way to the window, searching for
sunlight and warmth and birds flying by
the cat seems indifferent to whether

the blooms wilt or thrive; but (even though
we'll remind ourselves again in a year,
when new lilies arrive) for my part,

I'd just as soon keep this year's and
not wait for an another twelve months
to remember the resurrection