Sunflowers
Follow the sun
-every sunflower does-
with all its brightness and warmth,
but only their heads move.
Roots tie them to
the soil below.
Yet, ever do they strain,
East to West, East to West
-day after day-
Up comes the sun,
the flowers point East.
The sun moves, they stare back.
So far away it seems;
nevertheless,
they reach,
but that reach will never be enough.
The sun, miles and miles away,
can hardly be expected to notice.
-their hope useless, their effort futile-
The sun cannot come down.
Surely they know?
Yet, how could they?
They stand tall, happily.
If they knew,
their heads would droop,
their color fade away.
But who could crush their hope,
darken their lives
with the sun’s seeming mockery?
I doubt I could.
The Wind’s Insistence
The wind fiddles with
anything loose
-Making noise,
fighting to be noticed-
Rustling the leaves,
causing the grass o shiver,
but most arresting
twiddling with my hair.
Gently, it flies with the tender push of air.
It ebbs and flows
like waves upon the ocean,
yet not quite so consistent.
The winds insistence often annoys me
Playfully tossing my hair about
-into my eyes, brushing my face-
It’s only a delicate reminder;
the wind whispering,
“I’m here. Don’t forget me.”
Yet, still I rebuke it,
unmindful of its plea.
Huffing and puffing, I fling my hair away.
For a moment,
the wind dies
-hurt, disappointed-
A moment later, it picks up again,
hopeful, yet, that I will
give promising attention.
Falling Snow
Laying, with my head, resting
against the frozen ground,
crunching leaves, shh… not a sound
I watch the snowflakes filter down
through that winding labyrinth of limbs,
from the sky up above
to the earth far below.
Their path curves and curls,
any route, but straight and simple.
One moment lifted, floating, up high
the next plummeting, crying goodbye.
Yet, with the wind’s folly,
riding the breeze once again.
I watch these delicate frames,
gliding and falling.
But soon, the shivers and frost overcome.
I head toward home
-warmth’s lure too strong-
