Prompt is to write from some viewpoint in the Wizard of Oz. I speak for the field of poppies.
We sing you home on chaos wind.
Come now and lay your heavy head
soft in our dream-billowed bed.
Fools, you follow, and pretend
yellow brick road is no dead end.
Too short the night, too long day,
Our scent is heavy, rich and sweet.
Forget and drift in silken sleep.
Home is lost and hope dies deep.