I think that it is mighty wise
for the poppy to have
that stiff upper lip smile
whatever the tune.
It blooms red in Flanders' Field
fed by the blood
of the warriors
who notice now
what they did not then.
Out of the rust
of guns and helmets
a swaying sea
the color of sun, hope
and life.
The flowers a small token of balance
to answer the whispered why?
The gold from fields of Poppies
in the Dunningan Hills
celebrate the sunshine
and the wine grape
with a dance
on the gentle breeze.
Is it the predetermined
charge to the Poppies
to smile with full bloom,
never to judge life's
other pace.
Perhaps in this crazy world
there needs to be
a Poppy that
smiles on schedule
for the optimism in life.