Susan Woodrow Poet Shape

Bow Down

A
                                            sun
                                          flower
                                          hangs
                                           full
                                            of
                                    bees bumbling,
                                and birds humming!
                           Fluttering tweets of honey,             
                         seeded with summer’s burdens:           
                        joys and woes, bow down, to kiss ground;
                         as all of life must, eventually,       prostrate.
                            Tall pride now bends over.            Silence
                                in acquiescence:                       hallow
                                                                               return               to
                                                                               heart’s            core
                                                                               Mother        Earth
                                                                              gathers the spent.
                                                                             Her depths
                                                                            churning
                                                                           to burn
                                                                         renewal 
                                                                                                                                                                                                 
                                                                                                               
                                                                                                   
                                                                                        
    (Repost from Aug. 2018: '02 Maxum 2700 SCR; DMS:OOWS then Pittsburg Marina: IWS, Oct. 2020)

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Lady Labyrinth November 3, 2020 at 1:58 AM I am sure it's meant to look like a flower, to me it looks like a lamp... Susan Woodrow November 3, 2020 at 6:02 AM lol...yes, it is very hard to draw a dead sunflower with confining / confounding words! Now that you mention lamp...I am seeing an old lady slowly tottering down a hallway with the old fashioned oil brass lamps you carried along...the single remaining bract still flaming though quite distorted :) Lady Labyrinth November 3, 2020 at 1:59 AM you had me at ....bees....