The sunflower reaches up:
Tall and proud
Vainly striving to reach the sky:
A Sisyphean task.
For the wind batters;
Bruises as it nears.
Faces forced to bow.
Stems snapped like broken backs.
Nevertheless, they still believe.
Winter comes: a forced retreat.
Petals wither and fall.
Reduced, reused, recycled.
No longer of interest
To bees, birds and we
Who only see the first
Flush of beauty.
Returned unto the soil.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 7:44 AM UTC
The sunflower reaches up:
Tall and proud
Vainly striving to reach the sky:
A Sisyphean task.
For the wind batters;
Bruises as it nears.
Faces forced to bow.
Stems snapped like broken backs.
Nevertheless, they still believe.
Winter comes: a forced retreat.
Petals wither and fall.
Reduced, reused, recycled.
No longer of interest
To bees, birds and we
Who only see the first
Flush of beauty.
Returned unto the soil.