Golden Titans

I like sunflowers I like the beauty caught in one frame suggesting everything in the name— and again, not. the brown dial patterned, watching— nothing like the blistering lemon staring down on my summer days the ray petals beckoning, undulating in the wind swishing— the Titan stems reach for the sky towering, steady offering a quiet nod without breaking hairy stalks prickly against my skin bear grand leaves gathered into a shield— waiting to defend An army standing guard to weather a perceived attack banded together facing the sun. standing strong, blooming— not cut from their stem, captured, to die alone.