The sheer redness in the young corn, as my train sped past, inspired this poem.

THE SCARLET POPPIES’ DREAM OF PARADISE

God is the perfect poppy, purest scarlet,
Furnace of blazing colour, flame on a stalk,
And, central sensuality, the dark
Stamens, black mascara’d like a harlot.

Oh, the winking rhapsody, the fire;
Sultry attraction, ruddy cheerfulness;
The heat, the dance, the swaying loveliness,
The harvest sun, blue skies, fulfilled desire.

Redness complete, in shining sensuous silk;
Riding the breeze, full blown, in glorious being;
The droning bees, the rustling silk, agreeing
Every launched wish, bright Poppy o’ the Ilk.

Scarlet poppies’ nirvana! Do they ever think
Heretic pink poppies say: God is pink!