Late gladiolus

speaking pink against the

golden leaves and somber skies

of autumn, dares to summon

florid summer, when bees hummed

and clung to sunflowers

heavy with black seed.

Now, those fuschia blooms

feel out of place, the awkward guest

who fails to follow polite expectations,

because through contrast she whispers

winter is coming

into unwilling ears.

C. Healy

This year instead of pink the last two are a fiery red and an elegant white .

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