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The current selected poem is by Frank Steele
Sunflowers
You’re expected to see
only the top, where sky
scrambles bloom, and not
the spindly leg, hairy, fending off
tall, green darkness beneath.
Like every flower, she has a little
theory, and what she thinks
is up. I imagine the long
climb out of the dark
beyond morning glories, day lilies, four o’clocks
up there to the dream she keeps
lifting, where it’s noon all day.
..................
One of the members of my book group, Margaret Pender, owns Victoria Park Florist. She hosted the last meeting and I admired the sunflowers she had in a glass vase. In her usual generous spirit she handed them to me as I left for home. I rearranged them a bit, placing them in one of my blue and white vases.
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to me at kmeredithart@gmail.com.
