Sunflower

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 2018