Daisies Are Pinwheeling

Daisies are pinwheeling, pinwheeling, pinwheeling,

streaking the sky in a sunshine processional,
praising in noonhymning tunes, seedbright ditties

and petalwhite prophecies, chanting their cheerful
irrelevancies over greengrowing earth,

and behold all the seawaving grasses’ susurrus
of sunflooded ripples, their barleygold glowing

in low ululations of earthy responses
and slow jubilations below, swaying, piedpiped

by pinwheeling daisies! Of what do they dream,
to what springsummer humming crescendos, what babble

of brightening images flung among meadowdawn
winds, do they dance, and what ambercrammed panpipes

enrapt them when daisies go pinwheeling over them,
streaking the sky, and all over us daisies

are pinwheeling, pinwheeling, pinwheeling, pinwheeling?