Flowers in Midstream

Summer flowers in the hills
Waiting for a goat or Winter
Do not care about anything
They live only for laughter

You should hear the tales they tell
Giggling to each other
They utter the silliest things
About roots and rocks
And daffodils

Sometimes hikers or sheperds
On a lazy afternoon
When the sun flirts with the peaks
Will lay their ear close to the ground
And hear the stories in their sleep

At first it's a soft whispering
Eyelids then fail to obey
They slip into the land of dreams
Petal speakers now take over
And fill the ears with flower tales

Sleep, sleep, into the cool
Summer flowers know all the words
They can sing the ancient songs
Histories of creeks and rocks
Tales of rabbits and foxes

Wake up wake up
The sun is nearly gone
Darkness comes over the land
And all the flowers must close
Tellers and sleepers must go home

As the sun yields to the night
Hikers return to their campgrounds
And over roasting marshmallows
Tell the stories of the flowers
To children near the fire

In the glades or on the slopes
The flowers sleep under moonlight
All is quiet in the chill night
Except a patch of young flowers
Still whispering after midnight.

July 24, 2017, late at night. With changes as suggested by Kiera

© 2017 Christopher Mahan