“The Color They Come To” by W.S. Merwin

I do not have to see
in order to believe
I know that the flame tree is flowering
when I see the petals at my feet
where each of them has come down
in its time to its place
out of where it was waiting
in the sky its birthplace
to lie on a green leaf
or a worn stone of the path
each petal alone in the present
curled in its own color