Last in Flower
Time to start the annual eyeing
Of the final blooms in bloom,
Before the Winter dying.
Which will be the final womb ?
Ivy, maybe, maybe daisy,
Roses far too slow and lazy
To be done and gone by now.
Asters equally as surly,
Gorse that’s late and jasmine early,
Petals braving frost somehow.
I guess they’re mainly cultivars,
These freaks who just won’t quit,
These suicidal stars –
All for our benefit.
But perhaps there’s evolution here,
With all the competition clear –
The last shall be the first.
Goldenrod and wintersweet
Are hanging on so long, they meet
The snowdrops when they burst.