The Endless Battle

Sunflowers blossom abound in lush, sunlit meadows,
Patronized by black and yellow dots that pollinate the flora.
?Rivers flow near the fields; Confident, strong currents that run without a sigh
Infuse the ground with rich nutrients and keep the flowers sturdy and alive.
Nothing hinders the flowers’ bloom;
Gaiety trickles down their stems, drops of joy that erase all gloom.

Soon scorching heat graces the sunflowers’ petals;
Undulating winds bellow with rage; and a
Myriad bees abandon their routines,
Menaced by summer’s wrath. ?
Even so, the flowers continue to grow,
Resilient and unscathed like an unwavering arrow.

All changes when cold, ?
Unfriendly winds arrive.
The petals plummet to the rigid, melancholy ground and
Unmoving, emaciated stems struggle to support the flowers through their
Misery and depression. Their determination is negated,
No poise or pride resonated.

Withered sunflowers are scattered
In a pasture under the cold, ominous sky.
Nevertheless, every morning the sun appears:
Their North Star, guiding them to their horizon; and so
Every winter the flora prepares, it
Readies itself for next year’s hit.

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