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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


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