Orange sunflower—
a round, rough-petaled planet,
orbited by bees.

Today with my dog,
visiting the sunflowers,
faces to the clouds.

Bed of sleeping bees,
sunflower, a yellow moon
quiet and blooming.

Unfathomable
worries and fears come to life,
despite all of this.

The sunflower bed—
like other ends of summer,
birds singing at dusk.

Twin bees work at dusk,
we weave through the garden paths,
part of the landscape.

I am unfinished,
but beautiful and complete,
a home for the sun.

Regeneration—
light of the first galaxy
in my sunflower.

Sunflower at night
under July thunderstorms,
before the crickets.