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.