FRIENDS AND READERS, A VALENTINE

The Sunflowers

Come with me
  into the field of sunflowers.
    Their faces are burnished disks,
       their dry spines

creak like ship masts, 
  their green leaves,
    so heavy and many,
      fill all day with the sticky

sugars of the sun.
  Come with me
     to visit the sunflowers,
       they are shy

but want to be friends;
   they have wonderful stories
     of when they were young -
        the important weather,

the wandering crows.
  Don't be afraid
    to ask them questions!
      Their bright faces,

which follow the sun,
   will listen, and all
      those rows of seeds -
         each one a new life!

hope for a deeper acquaintance;
  each of them, though it stands
     in a crowd of many,
       like a separate universe,

is lonely, the long work
   of turning their lives
     into a celebration
       is not easy. Come

and let us talk with those modest faces,
   the simple garments of leaves,
      the coarse roots in the earth
        so uprightly  burning.

                                             Mary Oliver

       If I were JudithHeartSong I would paint you a picture,
if I were Deabvt I would write you a poem (actually if I myself had a little more time I would write you a poem).

But sometimes I feel that because there is Mary Oliver, no one ever needs to write any more poems. She says everything, and always says it better than I could ever hope to.

This community of Journal Land is like this field of sunflowers to me: each one of you a new life with a wonderful story, people of whom I am not afraid to ask questions, say what I mean, each of you a separate universe, uprightly burning, with whom I hope for a deeper acquaintnance.

I love each and every one of you, I cherish your friendship, I am grateful to be in this field of bright, modest, upturned faces, telling our stories, listening to one another's, as we try, separately and together, to turn our lives into celebrations.