Pearl or Clear?

The crocus, like the other corms,

stack simply, storeys building up,

on top of one, the other joined.

Unlike my candelabra herbs,

perennials, in greenhouse care,

those snowdrops, tulips, springing up,

more courtesy in nurturing;

the white bell clumps want undisturbed,

while Dutch blooms droop if water share

and many dig, replant each year.

Thus so the lamplight in my porch,

for do I switch when quivers first,

each turning on or off risks more?

The last flicker may death knell be,

with plunge into blind black of hell,

a grope in gloom from wobble chair -

the shaken torch beyond repair.

‘Replace the bulbs’ is grandkids’ cry,

though not a clue, come my reply

of pearl or clear or what’s the watt,

all elements beyond their ken -

despite the double helix wire

that I perceive, bulb DNA,

but not transformed to modern mind.

For sight I would use candlestick -

they’ve brass to ask just what I mean -

as when I talk, moon waxing, wane,

or haloes round the night sky flames.

But I retain pooled stubby sticks,

their dribbles, tears like seventh age,

where wax and flame had served me well.

Now I must tend to bedding plans.

https://www.poetrypotion.com/pearl-or-clear-by-stephen-kingsnorth/