a dozen framed sunflowers hang behind my bed–
sketches, pastels, acrylics, screen-print on rice, an oil,
by artists young, not as young, of various histories.
today, I enter gatewood-waddell’s. three watercolored
beauties looking round and about. oh, my dears, i say,
and remind them, we face west. long past time clytie
got over apollo. but they remind me to halt
my pessimistic ways. turn us all back to the east,
to this new day. forever we must follow,
forever gifts of nature.
forever magicical.