Sunflower
In the blithe breeze
A baby’s hand opens to the light.
In a daze, the radiant blaze, towering flower
arching toward the golden solar rays.
In a time-lapsing daydream, it rises, stretches
and unfurls, soaking in and beckoning the sultry Sol,
the simmering summer Sol.
No wonder it is seen as good luck.
First conceived in childish crayon,
It bears the ragged, jagged edges
of toddler joy, of a blunt golden celebration.
Clutch it to one’s chest,
the Raggedy Ann blossom,
the perennial of laughter and glee,
great daisy pregnant with seed!
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