Sunflowers Poem by Donal Mahoney
Sunflowers
No one has to teach a field
of sunflowers how to worship.
Before dawn in high summer
their necks are bent
in silent prayer like monks.
But as the sun comes up
sunflowers rise as well.
At noon they adore the sun
the way monks in pews
adore the Host at elevation.
Listen and you may hear
sunflowers sing Alleluia!
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: god
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4/24/2024 11:06:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
