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Sunflowers
Majestic lion heads
weighted,
giants among flowers.
Sunflowers
cause me to write
about my own fear
of death.
Singing, Be Still My Soul,
faith came easily when
my health
was
good and correct.
A bouquet of sunflowers,
stark
as a Van Gogh painting.
Stand weighted in
memorial:
Chancel flowers,
the only color on
a dismal dreary day.
Sleeping on the ride
to my adulthood,
my first job in
North Dakota, I
awaken to
dizzying and endless
fields of sunflowers.
Cloudy at the border.
Crossing,
sun shone
down rows that
spun by like pinwheels.
It was the colorization
of my life movie.
I was in Oz
as afraid then
of beginning adult
life as I am at
measuring a half
a lifetime ago.
When I die, I
want sunflowers
in stark Van Gogh
vases.
Chancel flowers
on a dismal
dreary day.
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