The remarkable pictures of the sun looked as if she was writhing in agonised grief. So I wondered what could make the sun so sad – and this is what I came up with…
Besieged and surrounded,
the Sun lashes back at the snarling
blackness hounding her every move.
She aims her daughters – brave fountains of
eye-biting brightness – into the frigid
abyss. Such futile defiance…
Howling through the old coldness of deep space,
fragile sunspots weaken and chill, crumpling into
dimming frills of light, finally wisping into
as the blanketing blackness silently sneers.
Meanwhile, hidden behind a blue veil
millions of miles away…
celandines and coltsfoot,
blazing dandelions and
auriculas, buttercups, spears of golden rod, yarrow, californian poppies
birds’-foot trefoil, cowslips, corn marigold, st john’s wort, yellow rattle –
along with hundreds more sunspots – burst onto the ground,
eye-brimming and bright.
tell the Sun.