Poplar Tulip
Several springs ago, while living in center city Philadelphia, I was walking across Independence Mall on my way to work. I loved these walks: fresh morning air, a city rousing to life, bags of bean sprouts bigger than I ever imagined possible in front of restaurants in Chinatown, homeless people asleep near the exhaust holes of the subway, me walking briskly so as not to be late, and then . .
Before my very eyes, a flower growing on a low tree branch. My first ever poplar tulip. I stopped, stood in amazement, phtotographed, lingered.
Who cares if I’m just a little late?
Several springs ago, while living in center city Philadelphia, I was walking across Independence Mall on my way to work. I loved these walks: fresh morning air, a city rousing to life, bags of bean sprouts bigger than I ever imagined possible in front of restaurants in Chinatown, homeless people asleep near the exhaust holes of the subway, me walking briskly so as not to be late, and then . .
Before my very eyes, a flower growing on a low tree branch. My first ever poplar tulip. I stopped, stood in amazement, phtotographed, lingered.
Who cares if I’m just a little late?
Several springs ago, while living in center city Philadelphia, I was walking across Independence Mall on my way to work. I loved these walks: fresh morning air, a city rousing to life, bags of bean sprouts bigger than I ever imagined possible in front of restaurants in Chinatown, homeless people asleep near the exhaust holes of the subway, me walking briskly so as not to be late, and then . .
Before my very eyes, a flower growing on a low tree branch. My first ever poplar tulip. I stopped, stood in amazement, phtotographed, lingered.
Who cares if I’m just a little late?
This piece was in the Art of the Flower Show, Philly Sketch Club, 2019.