Revisionist Poetry – “Blossoms Under Warning” – Floral Intensities, v.3

In the field, the flowers stand too still,
a congregation in borrowed colours,
their bright faces turned upward
like witnesses waiting for judgment.

The stems tremble in the wind’s approach,
thin as wires, tense with warning,
and the petals, once soft as breath,
flicker like small flags
announcing a silent unrest.

Their fragrance moves through the air
with a sweetness edged by decay,
a beauty that lingers
just long enough to make the eye trust it
before it begins to fail.

Even the light seems altered here,
split across their bodies
into gleams and bruised shadow,
as if the earth itself
were hiding something beneath the bloom.

And still they stand —
not peaceful, not innocent,
but gathered in their fragile radiance
like a beauty that knows
how close it is to ruin.