Poppy

Daintily set against a field of wheat,

Bowing and bobbing a little -

Curtseying, if you will -

Above a chalky ground of white,

Beneath a cloudy sky of blue,

Beside a heavy field of gold,

Behind a narrow path of green.

Red it waves. Bright red glistens

As a dew drop dissipates

Amidst the sunshine and the warmth.

Flutters in and out like mountain goats

And then comes to rest at close of day,

Shuttered up against the night’s chilly advances.

Sleep well, poppy-flower: you’ve earned it.