Sunflowers

The Sunflowers

~ Mary Oliver

Come with me

    into the field of sunflowers.

        Their faces are burnished disks,

           their dry spines

creak like ship masts,

    their green leaves,

       so heavy and many,

           fill all day with the sticky

sugars of the sun.

     Come with me

         to visit the sunflowers,

             they are shy

but want to be friends;

   they have wonderful stories

       of when they were young --

           the important weather,

the wandering crows.

Don't be afraid

to ask them questions!

Their bright faces,

which follow the sun,

will listen, and all

those rows of seeds --

each one a new life! --

hope for a deeper acquaintance;

each of them, though it stands

in a crowd of many,

like a separate universe,

is lonely, the long work

of turning their lives

into a celebration

is not easy.  Come

and let us talk with those modest faces,

the simple garments of leaves,

the coarse roots in the earth

so uprightly burning.



Homestead Sunflowers, 2011

This poem was read at my mother's memorial service by her dear friend Shirley Beckman.

It holds a special place in my heart... as do sunflowers.