a stone in a river, 22

Stalks follow the sun
before the bloom

Unseeing eyes point
ears to rustles

Black soil still warm
shadows a slant touch

Lowing roars pursue
a twilight plane

Shaped like a star
time boomerangs

/ / /

And this (forward & back) casts to Carolee’s sunflowers, along with tonight’s landscape.

I didn’t know stalks & leaves did that, either.

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from seeds here & in my backyard

Sunflower plants turn
toward the sun weeks
before flowers arrive.

The stalks must convince
the blossoms they know
what they are doing, well ahead
of believing themselves

buds will arrive.

///

My son Jack planted sunflower seeds in the circular flower bed we created inside our fence a couple years ago. We have alternately planted something there and let the weeds have their way. I noticed this year, for the first time, that the plants have been practicing following the sun across the sky. I’d always thought they waited for the flowers.

I wanted to write about it, though not make a poem containing only it. So I’m considering this a seed of its own. And it’s related for me to these (Deb’s 18th and 16th stones). It’s also, of course, not un-related to things going on in my life at the moment and how you can’t always hold the belief that something lovely is going to open up. But you do what you do because something somewhere in you knows.

I want to at least, for now, name it something unrelated to sunflowers. Maybe I will call it, “Hiring movers” or something. Not sure.

a stone in a river, 18

she says it’s not the light that bothers her
but the whirring clicks that picture
her grey matter, spotted
signs she is well
on her way

 

/ / /

My mother had an MRI today to try to access the condition of her brain & count how many mini-strokes she might have had. Her biggest fear is a major stroke. I imagine it is all our fears.