I have seen sunflowers grow
in unlikely places and I never
knew whether their seeds were
the favourite of birds everywhere
and it was through combination of avian
digestion and adaptability to varied soil
conditions that they graced soiled
walls, tall wired fences, humble breaks
in concrete, dusty spaces unused by profit
Or was it the human hands that brought
them to any patch of dirt to grow, to grow!

And grew they did, tall with large leaves as
wide palms of working men facing upward
their faces standing the test of passing fashions
as most beloved and beautiful icons of vitality

I admit my disbelief that I never saw anybody
claim them – the mad and the sad, or ordinary people
of every street – breaking down by their sturdy green
stalks just below the yellow-black faces as if
they were the signposts planned by the city for
everyone to tie one’s misery to

But nothing like that ever happened
And maybe I don’t see things correctly for people
and the little decency they still carry with them
know that these are but the bits of fairy tale stuff
dropped randomly across the wide urban desolation
Garbage, graffiti, pieces of rubber, cans, paper and
plastic all around is the gutter where you’d expect
to see magic visiting to cast a weak spell
or spring a root of hope