Poppies (1914 – 2019)

a poppy seed flies in the wind
and landing lightly on the earth
lies waiting for sun’s energy
to germinate and give it birth

a droplet falls from rainy skies
weak sunlight warming with its rays
until in spring new growth begins
it’s bloom sublime on summer days

blood red a field of poppies shine
each one a hundred others yield
these symbols ever in our hearts
of all who die on Flanders field

 

A sad farewell

I watched alone by sunlit edge
of pond and meadow touching hands,
those flirting leaves that twitched and swirled,
gold dessication incomplete.
While water ruffling to shore
beneath bowed willows’ trailing arms
pushed tender shards of russet brown
to curl contentedly in reeds.
No harsh sounds to be heard that day
– all living things were hushed and still,
yet autumn whispered in the breeze
and summer hummed a sad farewell.