Sunflower
A slate-grey cloudy sky
Glowers from above
Hangs heavy on the morning
Low ceiling’d over daytime
Shading each dew-damped surface
With sombre tints of black and grey
A palette washed of any colour
Provides no point of focus for the eye
But among the general wash
Of drab and dripping greenery
Rises one tall defiant stick
Huge leaves drooping sadly
Towards the sodden earth
And almost proudly
Bears its over-loaded head
Faces up towards the light
And spreads one sudden smile
In a gash of vivid colour
A burst of golden yellow
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012
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