To sing break-heartedly of light Like dying sunflowers Gathering to themselves their life, Defying that which is their source. Small suns, we grasp your wantonness And would reverse your death. Our poorness seize your gold. But go you must, Dear small reflections Of so great a God, We would you stay.
Sheila Billingsley, August 2019.
The sunflowers are indeed ‘gathering to themselves their life’ as Summer strolls into Autumn. The seed heads will turn to black, attracting the birds when they are hung up in the garden in weeks to come; we cannot seize their gold, but we can remember them, and save a few seeds to reflect God next year.