Now the poppy petals flutter

The updraft twisted yellow mist:
ominous weave of gaseous death.

And now the poppy petals flutter.
Eyes closed.
Another updraft,
drifting, lifting, Deep darkness
each single petal turning end over end. covered the face of the earth.
All seemed without form
The coughing, and void.
retching;
ghost-like in the eerie silence. There was no
Sun filtered through the yellow. resurrection.
Cut earth glistening,
spectral. And the poppy petals
flutter down...
endlessly.

Andrew Pratt (born 1948)

Words © Stainer & Bell Ltd, London, England, www.stainer.co.uk. 

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