Sunflower – a poem by Micaela Meyer

Sunflower

A sunflower
keeps her eyes trained
on the keeper of light,
lets the warmth cascade
like a chiffon sundress
hanging off her 
poised shoulders,
leafy palms 
open to receive.

She tilts
as the light 
climbs up the sky,
drinking in her portion,
sharing its shine.
Then her gaze falls
until fire meets
the horizon
and lowers beneath
the open plains,
the keeper’s presence
stretching across the west
in blood orange,
then pink lemonade,
until the earth sips
its last drops.

The sunflower doesn’t
hang her head in sorrow.
She carries the name
of the one who sustains,
and with expectant hope,
turns back toward the east
and waits.

Though she cannot see it in the night,
she knows the light is still there–
gliding under the earth,
lifting new mercies toward
the hem of morning,
filling her cup again
at the day’s birth.

Micaela Meyer is a poet from Modesto, California whose work unfolds in conversation with God and the writers of Scripture. Her work has appeared in Inkwell by Christianity Today and Agape Review.