utterly unasked for by a sky

Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.

Nor the woman in the ambulance

Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly –

 

A gift, a love gift

Utterly unasked for

By a sky

 

Palely and flamily

Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes

Dulled to a halt under bowlers.

 

Oh my God, what am I

That these late mouths should cry open

In a forest of frosts, in a dawn of cornflowers.

 

["Poppies in October" by Sylvia Plath... very interesting comments at genius.com/Sylvia-plath-poppies-in-october-annotated ]

Done