Dave Bonta's "Unseasonable" is a tiny poem built from three quick glimpses, and it asks you to feel something rather than work something out. The first image, a white flag "silent as a flower," could suggest surrender, or peace, or simply a pale bloom. The speaker doesn't say which, and that openness is part of the pull. The title hints that something is out of its proper time, perhaps a flower or a stretch of weather, which gives the scene a gentle strangeness.
The middle image is the oddest: "a soup made of water and the infinite." It sounds like a plain, homely thing, maybe rain, mist, or a puddle, but with the vastness of the sky or the universe stirred in. The last lines turn to sound, a "thrumming in the corn," as though the field is alive with insects, wind, or something unseen. The mood is hushed, curious, and a little awed. The speaker seems to be standing still, noticing how the ordinary world hums with something much bigger than itself.