Black-Eyed Susan in Morning

Black-Eyed Susan in Morning

Poem by Beth Cagle Burt
Art by Dorothee Lang


Petals flung wide, I stand fascinated
at the sun of my formation, waiting

for bees to forage at my core, wanting
nothing more than simple pleasure

proliferation. Where have the hours flown
when I was a maid in a fastened yellow

dress, watching the satin of morning
mist gather on fine garments.

Yet, I will poise in ensuing days,
dazed at my familiars who still crave

whistling winds to ruffle their frock
foliage with pollen enough for all.

Today, my petals will fall and firm
seeds will succumb to waiting womb.


-refers from the word flowers in the essay Something Real by Elizabeth Rawlins