Countless clues

I need to be seclusive even more,
not on my forehead carry all my thoughts
but keep the longing hidden, not implore
nor be intrusive with my words, before
they're even germinated,

take the core
of all those heartfelt things,
hide them away
in far-out grasslands,

where they grow and need
only the wind and sunlight
to proceed,

where they burst into colour
on birdsong and feed
on starlight,

where they flourish
as countless clues
in vivid isles among the weaving grasses,
flaunting red poppies
mixed with cornflower blues
in scented seas of heaving camomile...