Bouncing bubbles, thin dew stands jubilant Atop Poppie’s vibrant, happy colour. Poppies in summer time are in a trance, Smiling rapturously: scarlet music! C notes rise on a breeze, crimson follows In a waltz, a samba- zounds, Fiddlesticks! The garden would be desperately hollow, Daffodils mope until crimson rhythm Bursts spontaneous, famous elation Ricochets, the hanging baskets fathom, The chain braking freedom born stagnation. Poppies will dance for the rest of their lives And drink the sweet nectar, high as a kite.
Third piece from a series of garden flower sonnets