Operands

The hibiscuses are flourishing
In their tidy slough
Within the triple interstice
Of layby lanes.
Wilty crimson disks
Proclaim their impassivity,
Their resilience, their immunity
To drought.
And even after frost and sleet
Reduce them to fibrosity,
I'll rest assured they will revive
And spice the air with vibrancy.
• • •
The comet has long abandoned
Its solar ellipse;
It now plows linearly through the void,
Avoiding newborn stars and dying giants.
Where will this chunk of rock and ice
End its trek, in a stellar furnace
Or moon-crater crash?
• • •
Reduced nature,
Imbibed repeatedly,
May simulate the grandeur of
The treeless plains,
The roaring mountains,
May stimulate one's gratitude
For wildlands where no track persists.
• • •
In the waning afternoon,
People at play in a wide oasis:
Smacking balls, running bases,
Kicking goals, sunning in places
And using hats to shield their faces.
So here's a picnic table, for you,
Plus one jolly other, maybe two,
Underneath a spread of memorial oaks,
To share the day with gladsome folks,
For the soloing age comes on too soon.