Poppylicious. They look so delicious. But, noooooooo, it’s just another trick by nature. To tempt, to attract, to astonish, to delight. For when I nibble, the petal like kibble, I find no burst of flavor, no zing, no zest, no hint of orange nor twang of carrot, just a delicate wisp, which gave me a lisp. It clung to my tongue. I was coming undone. It made me spurt. It made me sputter. The petal was stuck. Was I out of luck? So with a quick flick, I spit out the trick. Off I trotted after a butterfly, after a bee, after the wind, I am so free. I am Ollie. I am me.
