POPPIES RED and SPEEDWELL BLUE

Poppies red, the hue of blood, stand in this field defiant

The growing wheat, in Greens and Golds, Attention Stand compliant

As ripen Sun reflects off Henge, the Golden Rays reliant

The Plain that rolls to distant hills

Green, Golden, Brown and Redden thrills

That charm the will, and needen heart-gap fills

The winding path behind yonder gate

Is lined with Red of New Form late

Defined, the Bends to the distant Copse and Fate

So is the Legend of the Poppy, Orwellian true?

Does it stand so proud, in the bloodened hue?

To mark the Sacrifice, that forefathers made for you?

As Red marks the Path to the Copse in view

Do the trees there stand proud, as a Haven new?

Or do they mask the place of your sacrifice too?

The Cumulus dancers are white and black

No clues as the birds, reflect Sun on the back

Thin flashes of White, to light the heart lack

The White, piercing flash of the birds in flight

Give glimpses of Heaven in the purest sweet light

And they stiffen the Heart to fight the good fight

And the little blue Speedwell, that lie at your feet

Four clover-like leafs, promise win from defeat

And the Courage of Love makes the Banquet complete.