After a sermon on more with less
and a potluck of salads and ham,
the adults confessed their excess
by hammering old beams for beds
and the children kept asking to press
black-striped seeds into the soil.
I wanted to tell them of the sunflowers
that bloomed in my childhood garden
and how I sat under their towers
looking up at their circling heads,
learning that the earth empowers
those who listen to the ground.
I wanted to tell them of the space
beyond the blocks of tall buildings
and a day’s drive from this place
where the sky dips down to dirt
and offers itself to any face
upturned like the flowers.