The sky was grey,

Not a shred of blue,

But outside the studio , a hurricane had blown a stalk of sunflowers down months ago,

And there in the rain, all along the fallen stalks, were blooms, reaching to the sky.

And in those blooms, sleeping,

I spied folded wings, and abdomens

That matched the yellow and black of the stamen centers….

And as I peered in,

A waft of honey scent drifted up….

We are one,

Sleeping in the grace of the sun,

Even when it rains.