August garden

Sun-warm the early berries blot my hands, The smells of summer emphasize the air And apples start to fall in ones and twos. A sunflower alone stands taller than the fence, The harnessed lifeline through its hairy stem Projects a face, a dark-brown velvet disk Alive with bees inside a yellow fringe. Turned hungry to the sun it echoes strength: A weather-gleam proclaims its yearly yes.