Query
by John Updike

Pear tree, why blossom?
Why push this hard glitter
of life from your corpse?

Headless and hollow,
each major limb broken
by old storm or snowfall,
you startle the spring.

Doesn’t it hurt?
Your petals say not,
froth from your shell
like laughter, like breath.

But (your branchlets spew up
in an agony’s
spoutings) it must.

–John Updike: Collected Poems 1953-1993, pp. 127-128