Goldenrod
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.
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