We are all sunflowers. Metaphorically, of course, before the scientists here tell me off
Sunflower
Sunflower stands and tracks the sun
From dawn until Apollo's gone
A patient and a hopeful eye
In adoration of the sky
Her days are rooted, quiet, spent
Towards the light her body leant
With other suns of earthly gold
Green arms outstretched for light’s sure hold
And rich with cargo, every one
Built strong with sugar from the sun
Alone in fields of fellowship
Hands asking to receive
But with no strength to grip
Etched deep with frosts and winds of loss
By night they dream of Hesperus
The Morning Star’s deliverance
The faintest and the farthest star
Still fires a phoenix from afar
While ancient suns long cold and gone
Still say the Story isn’t done.
KEH