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Lone Poppy and Seed
On finding niche of nourishment twixt stone
Her rhythmic wiry stem sways all alone;
A hairy bulbous purse parts as she peeps
With wrinkled-yellow wakings where she sleeps;
Her sepals fall once she unfurls her forms
And velvet paper bloom dead stone adorns…!
And when complete she pauses in the sun
For many days … then, knowing she is done
Begins a waning journey as she fades
Whence yellow-falls do grace those stony shades.
Upon her wiry course all center’ed
Genetic parcels cluster in her head:
Her master, such, has faithfully bequeathed
His Genius: minutiae of a seed!