Blue Flax

After many years A single flower reappears. I don't know why. Blue flax, its pale eye Peering up at me, From its thin, precarious perch At the lawn's right edge. Its green lids close at Eve Awaiting tomorrow. Blue flax, holds out its cup For Pixies sipping nectar. Maybe it was her, The Lady of those magical dreams, Who conjured this up for me, Coming again in the same year. I used to look in wonder At its large and highly Polished brown seeds, And the smell of linseed oil. I used to wonder too How such thin stems created From its long fibres Those Linen shirts So cool in summer. But mostly, blue flax, I think of those Pixies, Sipping nectar!