Running behind yesterday, so for today the April 5 prompt, which was to start with a personal issue or problem and relate that in some way to nature. I remember fields in Italy in August, masses and masses of sunflowers, and the way they turn always to face the sun.
Winter Imagines Spring
Each day the air leaches moisture
draws deeper lines into my face,
the left cheek mapped in dark
spots like small brown
lakes, dry as desert sand.
I imagine a farmer’s field gone
to seed in autumn, all brown
branches and faded flowers—
summer’s beauty just a memory
their petals ground to dust.
Yet, come Spring, see
how the streams freshen. Snow
down mountains, pools
in the dry lake beds, the fields
turn green with seedlings, their
faded blooms cast off as new ones
form their tiny buds.
By August, the field is alive again
with yellow petals and dark centres
of each sunflower as it turns
its head with the hours
to catch the sun.
Carol A. Stephen, poem for April 5, 2018