Hurtling down the highway
encased in Volvo and rock n’roll,
plucked from the slowly blossoming morning in a sunny garden
by urgent appointments ticking impatiently in the coastal fog,
I consider the sunflowers.
What if I could live as a human helianthus?
Accomplishing my purposes
without hurry or rush,
turning my huge head at the speed of sun’s smooth journey
across the summer sky.
Once a succulent cotyledon,
I will become a winter meal for jays.