Coquelicots

Deep from within the Earth’s fathomless womb,
when blood blazes with birth,
it is a blare, a bling of beauty among the sleeping modest.
An annunciation of an anastasis kisses the terra firma with the rising poppy,
whose heart of fire hides a path, a coal-black cross-road of mystery
Well-obscured, within the flaunty scaffold,
on a red carpet by the shores of Byblos, yet in the fields of Argenteuil.

Adonis, puer, a passionate call for love and life
Stands proud and eternal from the puella’s bosom.
With eyes of the sun, and of the night, is a rising star–
Astarte’s breath, an announcement of sunrise,
Blows over the crimson mane.
Specks of ruby awaken, scattering along the tips of the jaded wool,
Among the humble nobility of the yellow, violet, and indigo buds,
Swaying their heads to the crooning tunes of the morning winds.
In the strength of the voice, the blaze of the mane,
and the dilating veins of the singing sanguine
Is the raucous song of life
Sung by the coq—and the Coquelicots.