A handful of flowers

Became a fitful bouquet

Of shop flowers

And yard treasures

A cluster of zinnias

Frayed off a tiny bloom

Too small for the glass jar

That held the fresh blossoms

I placed the zinnia

In a glass on the sill

With the bloom facing me –

But not for long

Slowly, overnight

The face of the zinnia turned

Moving to the side

And then toward the sun