I knew the moment I saw her:
tall, defiant, green
in a dry
of hot black asphalt;
that something was different here.
Built of some inner, ancient DNA to survive.
four weeks of drought,
No water, no rain, just
She grows straight to the sun;
never Deigning at the paucity
that surrounds her feet.
Oh no, her stance is unflinching
against the oncoming traffic and
“How is that possible?” they wonder.
But the sunflower does not concern itself
With thoughts of the earth.
Her focus is to the sky, for high is
where a bright, yellow short life
begins and belongs.