It isn't often I pass by an entire tract of land covered in a tapestry of brilliantly colored flowers. The bulbous heads of the poppys graciously sway in tune with the gently breeze. Each movement seeming to be the last as you envision their rotund tops snapping off with the next movement. Thankfully they remain stoic and unrelenting against nature's sighs.
Beautiful pictures and beautiful prose. I will admit that this made me think of the scene in the Wizard of Oz where the witch is repeating "Poppies - Poppies" into the glass ball while enchanting the flowers to make Dorothy and company fall asleep.
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