The smallest of flowers

I think of you
my little flowers.
Blooming like the sun itself -
Waking all those dour, red and black
minions of the field.

Oh, that craning, pining, jealous mass.
Offering petals for a nod
and stems for the briefest smile.

Hasten quickly above that purple field.
Both height and breadth come from above.


John Lampe