The faded beauty,
a desiccated blush
Still seen by you and me
was evidence of
a scarlet flush.

But the season is over
And the mating done.
Splendor still hovers
Until the two are one.

But who are we to stand and gawk,
Though they rest in shade and know us not?

Their hour is spent in the maiden sun,
And we arrive after the race is won.

Stoop low to gather useless information
about magnetism and procreation.
We are nothing more than nature's shields
And the guardians of whatever she yields.