A Teacher Named Sunflower

Why is it that God always comes to us on a mountain?

What turns the whisper to a booming sermon when you ascend that hill?

What gives this journey life again when your high above the rest of the land?

I once thought it was proximity to the sky brought me closer

Unil I learned God was grounded in the earth.

So what might I learn from the place where the dirt meets the clouds?

Something about a storm that pours toward the sky,

Something about a raindrop returning to heaven.

Revealed in that school that protrudes from the ground, inside its photosynthetic professors.

I had a teacher that was named after their sky-dwelling master, the rotating altar of light.

It’s swirling petals of the living sun reflected the nature of the life giving sun’s spin.

And as they danced I played a simple tune for them.

Only spiraling from sun-tonic to sun-tonic.

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