Sun Worshipper

Fruit of the vine and burgeoning beans,
The giver of life, of seen and unseen,
My wonderfully indecisive coy date
Even in absence, not exactly late,
Often hiding but arguably on time,
To pick up the sunflower heads, and mine.
In her dusk, in solemn sobriety,
She frames the nights in endless variety
Of ribbon and streamer permutations
In equal portion for every nation,
An altruist artsmith by vocation
Chaser of shapes out and into formation.
Producer of all since antiquity,
Inspirer of so many songs and ditties,
Hummer of sounds so beautifully witty,
Under her warm pulse, dragonflies sputter,
And like the flies, mankind woos and stutters,
But damn the learning of undaunted men
Who rooked Apollo’s mystery heaven.
And when they explained the sun, I frowned,
For they reduced a goddess to a noun.

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