vibesmaster's blog: "wild sunflower"

The air fills with their scent, I stare at the blooms

and wish a hummingbird would come

or a butterfly stop to admire

the sunflower that blaze on the mount

before it incited this room.

For the yellow will turn burnt orange, then bronze,

and the dried petals will be sinuous banshees,

not wailing of death but singing silently up

to the mountain where they grew like vines,

sucking life from around them, until all I saw

were sunflowers, their wild-mountain scent

calling to me to pick them.