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Sonnet
Love bends over a yellow stalk of wheat,
Hope shields these grains her seed, sowed, eyes
Corn poppies pearl-black the inset stars discreet,
Worm eaten flowers, caste-up†a moment’s prize!
The sparkling cross pollination of souls and minds
Of hearts cool, hot, tepid, passionate, tears assigned:
These aren’t the sting, swollen, eruptions†she reminds.
Each bursting bloom a blood vessel, newly; entwined:
But gaze not blindly men at women’s true honest preserve
It’s God’s worn-out labour here on mother earth, cherished
The brashest of bees can dance and thrash their verve
And like the kneeling Sheppard raise all... the perished.
As the yolk of a flower is but a set, weed!
So he the father must chaff-out the wheat from the seed.
poem
by
Mark Heathcote
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