By David H. Werrett
Their heads had turned down.
The seeds were dropping,
My seeds were dropping.
He caught me at an off time;
I knew this one would be a girl.
I knew she would not be right.
We were blessed with two beautiful boys.
They came with full heads of blond, almost white
Curly hair, a year-and-a-half apart.
Two healthy rambunctious, playful, happy boys,
A gift from the Universe. We were blessed
But, I feared, not this time.
He had become less attentive, preoccupied,
The way men become when they find a lover.
I didn’t confront him.
Two years of bad crops and dwindling finances
Were a heavy weight for both of us, particularly for him.
He had trouble believing in the future,
A holdover from his past.
I knew of the woman, it wouldn’t last.
I collected the sunflower seeds, saved them over the winter.
When the soil was warm, I prepared the earth,
Hand planting each seed, holding back half
For a second planting four weeks later.
The sunflowers would be in full bloom when she arrived.
All happy little faces, all at once,
In the warm summer sunshine. I watered and tended the
Garden faithfully, I attended her and my body
With the same care.
The doctors offered us an out.
It was apparent she would not be well.
We wished to bring her to full term
To honor the Universe’s will.
He became attentive to me again. Always around now, and
Helpful. He no longer spent time away from the farm.
He labored with the animals and chores, as I
Labored with the growing seed inside me.
When the time came, he was with me. They placed her at my breast.
It was to no avail. We laid her poor small body in the family plot.
She would be with her ancestors.
All the sunflower heads bowed down, the seeds fell, many seeds,
Apace with our tears.
David H. [d. h.] Werrett, a former professional pilot and businessman, successfully incorporates both skills into his writing, but with a quirky twist, in real life he never had to push the throttle of a DHC2 Beaver seaplane to 37 inches of manifold pressure while getting shot at by fake scientists and listening to an angel impersonate Elvis! d.h. is fascinated by the universe, astronomy and creation, specifically the creation of the conscious mind. His rudimentary knowledge of how the universe is ordered is passed on to his characters, although they often do not know it, do not care or would rather follow behind the Yoga Yogurt Hottie down the yogurt aisle of the Giant supermarket.
Pearl S. Buck Writing Center 