A nightingale charms the poppies
Thanking them for their patience.
They listen to his song,
It’s a masterpiece
And they blush to their tips
In an analgesic swish
Glad he has returned.
The poppies are wooed to opera
Choreographed to the breeze.
Back from its travels,
The nightingale is loved wherever it goes.
Leaving unseen, from a back stage exit,
He had meticulously folded his Tuxedo
Then with wings outstretched
He homed the skies.
They were calling for an encore
But he flew home,
The poppies were calling.
It was time to migrate;
Mitigate the heat or
Find a mate and
Settle down.
Finally, he must have landed
Incognito, a true VIP
Checked in and all.
They perform and sing
A few bars at dawn
And here am I
Seated in poppy fields
In awe of the score.
