Haphazard agapanthus

On our morning walk, Mrs. R remarked that the agapanthuses (agapanthi?) in our neighborhood look more haphazard than usual. I was reminded of a poem I wrote a few years ago and could never get to work, so I post it in case anyone has useful suggestions. (Here's what an agapanthus looks like, and here's one emerging from its calyx.)



Calyx

Roots deep in midnight rain and chloroplasts
engorged with morning light, from its stained
straitjacket the agapanthus burst

violetly. The place you're headed's halfway up
not this hill, but the next, and everything
important in the world is happening here.

Sit cross-legged on the sketched
square of concrete this moment chose and feel
the dust brought by the wind and whoever

lives in these houses or somewhere
you've not yet seen - where were they? When
the calyx burst, what did you hear?