Buttered Up

it’s the simple things

that draw me to a halt,

stop me in my tracks,

today an unmown field

of buttercups, proudly

stretching their necks

colonising a paddock

we skirt around on our

daily constitutional

picture the scene,

a beautiful acre

surreal, tiny golden faces,

chin-up to the sun,

smiling coyly, as if butter

wouldn’t melt,

such breath-taking beauty

is cruelly transient,

a heavily blossom-laden

bush, like an exploding

firework display

two days previously,

now already spent

colours dulled.

Published by grahamrsherwood