Dahlias

Our little boy in his white suit walks among the dahlias

In the bright sunshine of the August garden,

In his white suit with red collar,

His yellow hair blown out, aflame in the sun.

He walks among the dahlias; the shadows of the dahlias,

The lacy shadows of dahlia leaves, fall over him,

Traced on his white suit; sharply in the sunshine

The shadows of dahlia stalks are traced on the sharp white.

The soft round shadows of great dahlia heads

Like starry balls lie on his shoulders,

The pointed shadows of dahlia petals

Deepening to dark black on the dark red collar.

He walks between the slanting dahlia stalks,

Through leaves and shadows of leaves,

Moving in his white suit, lingering, from bloom to bloom.

Among the red flowers he is a white flower,

Among the white flowers he is a red flower.

The pink dahlias crowd near his cheeks to look in his face,

He looks in the face of each flower;

The yellow dahlias lean toward his hair,

Matching their gold to his; his yellow locks

Like petals radiate about his head.

He walks among the dahlias, himself a lovely dahlia,

A branch of flowers walking, a little boy blooming-

Our own bright dahlia flower, our little boy in the sun.