For lunch that afternoon, a treat,
Not food; at least not food to eat,
But food for soul whose sustenance
Is beauty and those things of life
That, like a flower, serve it up.
For nodding, bowing in the breeze,
Outside the window standing tall
Cyclopic black eye framed in red
And newly burst upon the scene,
A poppy. Eye of God it seemed
Stared in at me as if to say
In language unmistakable:
I bring another spring. Enjoy.
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