though not me alone.
birds seed them as well,
adding a surprise or two
each year. i watch the buds
bloom open, the birds
return-sense home and
stare into my window
eyes and greet, hello, what’s
new? i’ll ask what color is
in favor now. this year they
say, oh, come taste the rare
blue. but i prefer the yellow
of sunflowers. my tastes
remain firm. and so
with every whiff of color
that drifts by, i close
my eyes and drink in its
sweet joy as free-flittering
hummingbirds, yellow-black
buzzes of bees return to soak
all in. occasionally, a cat or
two creeps through and
new chatter begins.