If you ventured beyond Canada, once the sun returns from hibernation,

To the Arctic Circle,

You’d find a lemon colored poppy growing above the unmelted snow and blooming in the cold.

And should you wish to climb Everest,

Say hello to Himalayan poppy,

the Arctic’s cousin,

as you climb above the clouds.

Here in America,

In the Valley we named after Death,

grows a low bush with little flowers,

no heat to strong for this desert wreath.

And further south, way far down,

in the country of Chile,

you’ll discover the most dry land on earth.

The Atacama goes years with rain, up to ten.

But when it comes, the valley is violet with the Desert Flower.

Hot or cold, wet or dry, low and high,

We are never far from a flower,

A reminder of the Glory of His power.