The Wild Poppies 

By the time I weather four seasons
another year has entered into my bones,
and the world seems warmer, people
ready to burn down the cities, towns,
trees and their own, and endless variables
flip my equations. So I begin again.

I commence studying the Spring
and the sudden poppies in the wilderness
opening their velvet violet curtains
to unveil the brown within. I have
pollen allergy, and as the age advances
it worsens, and yet, at this moment
I desire those clandestine bombers
to burst me into a million mirrors.

.

Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor