Today we have flowers

Suck down the nectar
Let the sweetness register, hold it to your lips
Like a dying man in the desert,
Press a petal against your skin,
Marvel at the silk soft summer strength of it.
The pollen will stain your hands and make you sneeze,
But that is what it does – it has a job to do.
Remove the black shrivelled scorched pod firmly.
It is full of tiny seeds – like eggs waiting to be born,
Remove them, roughly.
They are the threat.
They must replace the snaking stem
Clinging to the sun-blushed wall
and the swaying pastel colours of the flowers.
They are next year’s news.

Lorraine Mackay