Ode to Sunflowers Struggling to Find the Sun in the Yellow Wind

With an anxious air in my throat I saw you during the springtime when the Yellow Wind would bud the air with Gobi dust. It’s not like a fan, more like a vacuum turned on without the bag, and all of you in it, your heads turning lopsided. So continue to grow up against the brick wall. Do not stop searching for the sun who is struggling to compete with that dim silt that shines and whines on your cloud-hosed soil. How envied you are even by our local star who would love to reflect your fire-mirage. Your face of seeds lands everywhere. They will surprise the weeds. They will volunteer your light.