Mary Ellen Talley

Sunflowers


Dinnerplate discs
rise, bend,
and kiss driveway concrete.

I rescue a handful
while still-fresh yellow
petals spread.

Now faces bright as a birthday
emerge from a tall vase
in the room where you slept.

I discard withered faces
and dump tall stalks
in the yard waste bin,

tie the last tall blooms
to a fence post
as the seasons face change.