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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


They are always there,
sunflowers following the sun.
I see them in the snow
when the sun passes overhead,
in mirrors of chiaroscuro
left by rain,
in light flashing from
someone’s eyes,
on silk moving with the air.
Sunflowers everywhere,
wherever light appears,
or even in the gloom,
where an artist puts them.

And every year
I sow their seed,
and watch them
emerge from the dark ravines
of earth,
coming back to us
and their mothering star,
growing taller than our heads,
huge planetary flowers
filling up our gaze
with the yellow afterglow
of space.

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