Sunflowers

Sunflowers

Sunflowers sway,
In the breeze.
Silently rocking,
Quietly at ease.

Whispering corn stalks,
Sway left and right.
Calm and unbending,
Yet, not aright.

Never to stop,
The wind doth blow,
Whilst the soft breeze
Sings sweet and low

Ore the mountains,
Through the fields,
And the flowers swaying,
Whilst sun glints on armies’ shields.

The soldiers stand
Awaiting war.
Some are sad,
And some are far. . .

Far from those sweet fields,
I mean.
Far from birds’ song,
Farther still from soft, sweet spring.

O! Doth the Battle have to be fought?
Doth fighting have to reign?
O’er the fields sweet, lucius grain?
Yet again, and again?

Why doth sorrow have to rule?
Why must men be so cruel?
Singing songs of glory, and woe.
Why are people such fools?

Weeks, months later,
War doth rage.
Blowing through the world
Faster than wind through age.

The world is cruel,
And hard, and mean.
Yet still I roam,
And still I sing.

I sing of springs gone by,
Of birds and meadows,
Flowering in peace.
Of hope put in farrows.

Seeds sown with care by weathered man
Beneath a pulsing sun,
Watering his plants with joy
While children peacefully run.

My song gives hope,
To all who would hear.
Words I sing are sweet,
And clear.

For I am the April shower.
I am the graceful flower
I am a tree’s leaves whispering.
I am, and I will be forever.

I am sunflowers,
Bending o’er the sun,
Bringing light
To everyone.