A red admiral flies
       among the tall poppies
their bright blooms
       dancing in the breeze
the butterfly flits
       from flower to flower
as though counting those
       that have survived
the night sipping
       at the sweet nectar of life

This is not Flanders
       but the memory
is never lost
       At night the petals
are folded away
       tightly closed
within the bud
       but the morning light
brings resurrection
       as each living flower
bares its open soul
       to the sun

John Lyons