Sunflower

By John I. Blair

What joy transpires
Each time a sunflower
Drops its seeds!

A dry shell wrapped
Around an oily sliver
Hits the ground,

Then lies there, still,
Till something shields it,
Wets it, warms it.

Given those
Unguaranteed events
It comes alive.

A stem and leaves
Pop out one tip
And seek the sky;

A root creeps out
The other end
In quest of water.

Almost overnight
That seed
Becomes a plant,

An inch at first, a foot,
Three, then towering six
Or even nine feet tall

And bursts with bloom,
All gold and brown
And radiant,

Sets new seed,
Repeats the miracle
Of life continued.

®2020 John I. Blair, 10/17/2020