Sunflowers 

On a sunless

day, still

and cold,

they stand

in a line

mourning 

each other,

heads bent,

choked 

by their 

own

weight.

Black disks

slumped against

the sky.

Whorls

of seeds

plucked

faceless

by winter

flocks.

On the ground,

stalks 

touch,

uprooting

clods of dirt

in their

Tumble—

tiny

timbered

trees.

A lone

bumblebee

moves 

from purple

henbit

to henbit,

shivering 

in the cold.