Day’s eyes

“The daisy follows soft the sun,
And when his golden walk is done,
Sits shyly at his feet”
Emily Dickinson.

Now is the turn of daisies
dwarf-stemmed they snuggle
down in the godly earth of churchyard graves

Companioning the grass
a summer scattering of petite petalled faces
bright pinpoints amongst these age-old stones

A sundial reads the day
in shadows -but solar-rayed daisies
eye the sun from rise to set, in seeming awe