Six feet of weed, whose yellow blooms sway
Amongst buzzing bees on a sunny day.
At night, moths flutter and dip
Around flowers, where bees have sipped.
Late summer perfume of nectar sweet
Draws a melee of insects; bearing thousands of pollen-tipped feet.
Bugs frantic amidst flowers of gold,
To harvest sustenance before it is cold.
Autumn brings chill to the air
Hinting of death, so nature prepares
Cache of golden bounty, blessing the aware.