A Blanket of wild flowers,
Resting like a long quilt,
blooming under the desert sun,
With patches of delicate white,
violet and deep orange.
As the breeze caresses their soft
petals,
The poppies dance with the rest
of the wild flowers
Unaware of the sea of trash
swallowing them.
In the native habitat all around,
Large concrete pieces rise above the flora,
Tree branches left on the side of
the road,
Unmatched shoes, Walmart plastic
bags
And a soft blue loveseat
Where a lonely raven takes a morning
sun bath.
From the distance, the view of
the fields
Is breathtaking, relaxing and
inspiring.
It is when you open your eyes and
get close
That you see Mother Nature’s
bleeding,
While the polluted fields
intoxicate its soil
And nobody does anything to
prevent it,
Because what most people see,
Is a long quilt of wild poppy flowers,
Inviting us to fall in love with
them.
