Jewel in the Crown
A field full of weeds
as the summer sun burns...
The old ones recede
and the new take their turns...
Blossoming now on the warm summer stage
Enters the King as we turn the page...
Standing tall with scepter of thorns
His purple flowers await to be born.
Filling his crown with flowers bright
Like amethyst jewels they shine in the light.
With his prickles sharp, no one comes near
Instilling respect and a wee bit of fear!
But the winged ones know of his royal treasures
They dig for his gold with fervor and pleasure!
For his flowers are softer to the touch
The bees and the butterflies like them so much!
And when the jewels fade away from the crown
They change to brittle, dry rusty brown
But the gold finch knows of the treasures inside
Quickly she lands and knows where they hide.
She mines all day in a cloudy white puff
Filling her beak with seeds from the fluff!
After the seeds from the rusty old crown
The last gift remains, the gift of the down.
Silky and soft, the gentlest of all
Will line the nests of the finches so small.