Flowers on Sunday for a Moment

The lemon-yellow stars and their sun-gold throats took all my words away, and gave them back in shine and supple endurance.  Their story is enough to tell.  How they arrive at the consequence of time and dark, and strain against whatever resistance builds them into folded voices; and how they do not wait for any authority to grant their desire, other than the knowing when the time has come to sing.

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