Sunflowers bow-
bending at their brown
dried knees
no longer following
the sun
humbled now, they fade
Spiders busier-
by night they spin
sunrise casts first light
on their dew drop craft-
intricate lines
of deception
Birds and more birds
gather on lines and poles
like little feathered men
assembled in rows
something startles one
-off they all fly madly
Sun rise bothers not
to wake me these days
I am the one who shakes
to rise and shine-
a bucket of cracked corn
rattled like an alarm
As for the moon-
too early he rises
in a golden way
hypnotizing me,
early yawns follow-
triumphantly he glows
When sun and moon together
compress the day
between horizons
of awe and wonder-
daylight beaten,
I surrender...
To September.
by T.L. Starks 2008
