With a spurn of yellow and a shout

With a spurn of yellow and a shout

   A lone Mexican poppy

Aside the mountain path

   Caught my meandering eye.

How diminutive was its stem

   And so few were its petals -

Nevertheless - smart with poison -

   As it stood there - tranquil.

For one who’s loud in color -

   I warned the little poppy -

It’s not good to be popular

   For you can be plucked easily.