Long before you reach the sunflowers
long before the cement turns to dirt and potholes
long before the dry earth 
brings about her grounded suns

I don’t have the patience for you
but the sun is a star.

I ride the summer on dusty roadsides
drinking in your exhaust like ragweed pollen
you see me on the wood edges
too afraid to leave alone
too afraid to pick

You see me making 
once cultured fields my home
I am always the second place
hand-me-down worthy
middle child 
bottom class weed

But

Call me wreath donning brow
call me day stalk of the roadside 
call me bright melancholy 
call me hidden under brush
call me the fishing rod to the sunny children 

call me
that one dancer...
that makes the sunflowers
and buttercups

swoon