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Postberg daisies in springtime

fragrances fleeting and fair float past
my window fearlessly each day,
as carefree and colourfully scented,
they flow friendly outwards...

fun-filled, flirtatious femininity cannot but show
their sheer shapes, sizes and shifting magical maternity,
while pollen-sneezes amuse their upbeat egos.

fields full of furry winkers flicker
in the dappled sunlight
under the trees,
as spring leaps upwards in our
moribund masculine memories.

i would do well one lifetime,
short and sweet,
to come back as a bee,
voluptuously visiting various volutes,
inquisitively asking for sensitive sunshine,
ultra-violet and otherwise...

clothed casually but creatively,
flinging caution floppily to the winds,
they entertain the stolid stalks
of stick-in-the-mud seriousness;
such silly sausages!

o where would i wander,
if these intimations of excellent imagination,
did not fly freely past?

bored, berated, blighted with blandness,
i thank god for the flowers,
flutterbys lightly landing in loveliness
amongst woeful worlds of work.

Matthew 6 vs 28 – “See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.”