Random Acts of Poetry

The Sunflower

The assault is over, and I am spared -
or abandoned as unworthy, I cannot know.
The ground is hard, but it is not bare,
carpeted with cast-off shells, gathering below.

The birds unafraid of the giant’s stature,
attack his face and make it a meal.
Cardinals and jays, it’s in their nature
to peck and snatch with hungry zeal.

And surviving, I can only fear
that I will sprout one day and grow tall,
that in the summer of next year
I will be the object of their assault.

Beneath these empty shells I cower,
for now, it is the only safe place.
But taking root, one day I will tower
and the birds will destroy my sunny face.


16 lines

Written for "Cards Against Authors" Week 1
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Prompt Card: You’re afraid of your future self.
Wild Card: Metaphor: Emotional growth as a fragile seed.