Cordoned Off

 

I think I get too caught up on blooms and blossoms
Flowers come in so many colors;
We were out in the meadow,
I kept getting snagged by the little burrs
My sister pointed out a tall red in the grass:
It's a poppy
Mature petals swirled around a black head
And the bees were out,
The sun was particularly gentle,
There was no wind,
I love it when it's like this.
The meadow is sectioned;
There is the gravel road that goes through the tall grasses and the purple flowers
It goes by the gazebo
Wood shingled roof and stone base;
No picnic table though, and I've never seen it used,
This dark wooden skeleton that scowls in the sunshine,
Lonely and unused,
A little sad, bemused by the wasp hive it harbors in its kneaves;
The meadow is littered with wildflowers that lie low until you get close;
You can just skip about
There's a stricter area to the right
Thorny bushes and tendrils
And uneven ditches and mud
Still look beautiful:
Roses and butterflies
The stream, quiet,
But it is a forbidden place, over there,
So I watch from the meadow flowers.