Along our split rail fence, sunflowers grow
into a free-standing crowd: their heads, large
and small, turn to follow the sun’s waning
light. Swaying in the constant shift of
air, in this perfect weather, their beauty
becomes my held breath.
Watching them, I
can’t help myself; I sway too. My arms
float over my head; my upturned face
eclipsed by shadows unfolding
like bolts of cloth, ready
to wrap around me, once
and forever.
M.J. Iuppa's fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 29 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability and life’s stew.
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