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Sunflower

By John I. Blair

What joy transpires
Each time a sunflower
Drops its seeds!


A dry shell wrapped
Around an oily sliver
Hits the ground,


Then lies there, still,
Till something shields it,
Wets it, warms it.


Given those
Unguaranteed events
It comes alive.


A stem and leaves
Pop out one tip
And seek the sky;


A root creeps out
The other end
In quest of water.


Almost overnight
That seed
Becomes a plant,


An inch at first, a foot,
Three, then towering six
Or even nine feet tall


And bursts with bloom,
All gold and brown
And radiant,


Sets new seed,
Repeats the miracle
Of life continued.


®2020 John I. Blair, 10/17/2020


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