Golden crowns on bright red heads,
zinnias waltz where wind walks,
making way for monarchs’ wings
as golden as their crowns.
Light spills across the lawn
spreading trails for bees to ride,
while poppies drink the sun’s largesse,
bob and weave, flirt with silken beaux.
Attentive tongues lave petals clean,
champagne for all the wingéd kind,
intoxicated by the scent,
they stagger, tipsy, each to each,
loft themselves in arcs of bliss.
The universe applauds.
© 2015 Susanne Donoghue