Along the roadside, where poppies bloom,
heads hang low, with hair glistening in the sunlight...
then raise toward the sky...
releasing black and orange treasures.
Visiting ladybugs wear their matching outfits.
Spent petals drop, one by one,
and seeds ripen, promising another year's beauty.
Once again I whisper thanks to the One who made them,
who lifts bowed heads and fills our hearts with joy.
You, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the one who lifts my head high.
