Wild Flowers

        Deep yellow mustard,
        bright red poppies, white daises,
        and much much more

        to entertain the fancy
        as they grow in quaint bouquets
        as if on purpose-

        Fragile fragrant little splays
        often underfoot
        as a short walk becomes constant pauses.

        Here as small gold burst of petal
        star shape
        as if dropped and planted from heaven.

        There- another echoes the gold star
        but it's contained in a soft mid blue flower.

        There a thistle blends
        with a cluster of possible roses.

        I think this is a pansy, that might be
        a lily.

        This delicate beauty of blossoming
        is a veritable encyclopedia
        of all the wild flowers I can't name...

        I can only enjoy
        as the sun flushes my white cheeks pink

        and the elevated air touches deep blue sky
        as zither breezes sweep down
        from centuries of sighs-

        Exquisite wild flowers.

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab

Sunset

              
        The sun doesn't
            sink slowly.
        It drops suddenly
        as if pulled
        by an unseen hand.
        
        A grasping grip
        afraid to come up
        beyond the horizon
        
        waiting
        
        as the yellow disc
        up above comes
        closer, 

        taking dusk
        and turning it
        into a passionate
        red-orange.

        When the edge
        of the round red sun
        has slipped past a certain
        point on the landscape's edge
        the unseen hand grabs it
        pulls-

        The sun plunges down
        immediately
        dropped
        away.

        Gray light lingers a bit longer
        fingering the last threads of dusk.

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab