This poem appears in Frog Croon, May 2011, Issue 4
Tall poppies gently nodding in the breeze
Drinking deeply of the golden sun rays,
Unfurled with hearts of black they feel at ease
Knowing they bring a nostalgic malaise;
A melancholy knowledge of decay,
A yearning for a time only imagined,
To return to sedimentary clay
To grow in a novel world unimagined;
Where rules of gravity were different,
Where porous bodies intermingle freely
Singing harmonies to bring alignment
Between our world and the Court of Seelie.
Crimson poppies offer their sweet treasure
Needing pollination in full measure.