I spent a summer living without sunflowers.
After more than two decades in a home,
In a neighborhood with numerous other
Houses with sunflowers in their yards,
I was elsewhere and missed them.
Their majestic stems and yellow petals
Rising to towering heights
Had been the subjects of many images preserved.
Beyond the simple visual appeal,
I missed observing the always fascinating process
Of sunflowers becoming sunflowers—and blooming.
And I missed the wisdom gained
From sunflowers whispering when the wind blows,
When the secrets of the ages of collecting energy
To mimic the Earth’s source of light and heat
Are plucked from the stems, petals, and seeds,
And sent airborne to be heard by those who listen.
The leaves from the stems are like welcoming arms that
Signal being open.
The stems rising slowly but steadily
To heights attained by few other flowers
Speak of perseverance.
The flowers tracing the sun’s movement
Through the bright blue sky
Whisper of the quest
flowers complete each day.
The stubborn green stems
Despite wind and storms standing straight and tall
Grumble about resilience
and strength.
The flowers starting out looking like bulbs,
Opening over days and later showing bright in the sky,
With each flower at its own speed,
Tell of truth to oneself.
This year I could only reflect on lessons
I’ve learned from watching in the past—
And dream of new lessons next year’s flowers
In my permanent neighborhood might hold.
Being open to new lessons,
Persevering in my quest to learn,
Being resilient, strong, and true to myself
As I take pleasure in learning and sharing lessons of joy
From the simplest things in my world.
A student was near the elevator and the dean passed by