I have some poppy seed my sister gave me.
They are very old --
she has since past on through the golden gate
to whatever awaits us on the other side,
but she gave me a bottle of poppy seeds
close to twenty years ago, when we lived on 10th,
and I scattered most of them randomly
in the garden we had then
and all summer long they danced and flirted
with their fancy scarlet gowns,
and brought us great pleasure.
While delving into the medicine cabinet this morning,
away up on the top shelf I found the remainder
of the poppy seeds, in the same dark jar she had given me.
I have a patch of poppies in the side garden...
I noticed yesterday that it was growing by leaps and bounds
and had made room around its feet
for a lovely bunch of blooming violets.
A pretty picture!
That garden is over-run with violets, and not the blooming kind
but instead the wild violet plants that dig in anywhere they can,
and send runners out spread through the peonies and the iris.
A real pain, and unfortunately I am not as nimble
as I once was, and find it hard to squat, or kneel,
and even harder to eventually get up and toddle off to a garden bench
When Charles and I were in France and visited his brother's graves
the fields of Flanders were lined with poppies
And some time ago I ran across this picture
of a Lancaster, flying over a field of poppies,
which somehow seemed so appropriate
for my Lancaster pilot husband, paying tribute to his brothers.
But I digress from the dark jar and the seeds that have been waiting
so many years to prove themselves as summer beauties.
I knew just where to put them, - a little patch under a birdcage on a pole,
right beside the old tin garden shed!
And that's where they are scattered, and hopefully will respond
to the sunshine and the rain and the warmth
and I will have something lovely. reminding me of my sister
whenever I go by!