The sun beams
As roots rip there way up through dirt,
Neck and neck with grass that has long matured before.
A tip of a sprout peaks into visibility after weeks of nothing.
She grew in plain sight without a twinge of hope
The farmer’s forehead can finally uncrease,
One less to worry about he thinks as he tips his amber hat.
The seedling enjoys the cold mist and dew which fall to its cheek,
It coddles her like a blanket of support as the shadow grows
Untimely for a developing bud to mature when covered,
But the farmer knows better than to interfere with the order
Of the garden’s star-studded regime.
A sunflower blooms
Days before the leaves showed any sign of cooperating.
Petals of canary and lemon loom over its sturdy bottom
With a drop of its neck
It could realize its supporting roles.
A sturdy stem, roots suffocated with dirt, and mint-like leaves
All working to showcase the crown,
The bed of a bee, the eye of a beholder, the gift to a love-
A handsome sunflower.
The date and time of the compact leaves opening goes unrecorded,
But rays of light have still peaked through under large petals
Soaking the brick, the mortar, the structure,
The bestowers of life