I love the sunflower dance.
In films that squeeze a day’s light
into my attention span
I see their heads move from east to west
in a pas de deux with the Sun.
My own limbs long for this sweet motion,
matching step for step the light around.
Perhaps with the right camera I might find
that even my hair has some inner rhythm,
has a way to keep up with sunflowers
dancing through an endless summer.
(Seventh in a series on the Long Obligatory Prayer.)