Late Flowers (Poetry)

Still thrusting through a crackling dead and dying
smothering of leaves
the late flowers bloom
still hopeful with their fresh buds held aloft
to tempt an absent sun
they defy October’s sulky breathless gloom.

Golden Tickseed shoulders high and leads the rest
its yellow chrome and dark blood centres bold
and wildly scattered — egging on
this final stand in one braveheart display —
a glowing stab at glory.

Pale — one odd albino-faced and pink-edged poppy stares —
alone now — the others of her kind all withered back
to nodding rattle-skulls on brittle necks
she waits here — prettily resigned — in perfect innocence.

A cheerful gang of cornflowers varying their uniform of blue
some as bleached as old denim by the last hot rays
their fading marks the season’s sudden turn
while the multi-headed parsley merely bends
dropping petal flakes so small
none notice how it’s continually snowing.

With three days still to Halloween
the grasses spark alive with Summer’s small survivors
the last retreat not sounded yet
they hold their ground — these few hang on to a warm dream
as the dusk swarms early — chills the shrinking field
and threatens dark.