Sunflowers on Blue

 

There is winter’s gray,

which can be white with cold.

 

Spring shakes off my doldrums,

emerges from mud and muck

and screams me awake.

 

Grows up into summer, it’s

big brother of color, like

sunflowers on blue sky.

 

My garden dances in certainty.

Its certitude not lost to me.

 

Fall is forgotten.

Who sees that far ahead?

or ever gets old?

 

This moment is frozen.

Its all that there is.

It’s all I will ever have.

 

And bright colors are hiding

though it may look much like gray.