Flower Power + Electricity = ?
The path the breeze follows
across the early-morning fields
completes a circuit,
and the shocking indigo daisies
lie just above the careful daffodils,
like a robe in different phases.
The way the all-encompassing
red sunlight scars them is a sign,
like a star above them,
and the red birds come out to sing.
They sing a while, and then move on.
The black shape of circling eagles
turns on in the sky, open eyes
staring down for blood.
They circle on like stonehenge,
as the field is blown this way and that.
After all prayers and propitiations,
what remains of earth and sky is a sacrifice.
Amazing poem!!
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