Note: This poem was originally published in the 2010 issue of CRUX (Vol. 46, No. 4).
“...do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink...” (Matthew 6:25)
Now the sunflowers
are summer’s
skeleton, rattling
their poverty,
hanging by their
heels from
the front porch
beam.
No more seedy
carrion to nourish
the plum tree
wrens,
and yet,
every now and
again, one hungry
soul will pummel
the remains, pluck out
one last deep-
tucked innard, feast
madly,
all the while
swinging wildly
on the dark
bones.