The Darling Buds – Sunflower

At the edges of the mountains

the bones of old pulleys

graves of dead sluices

are piled underneath layers

of rockfall and regrowth

machinery of the gold-that-wasn’t

the people with fools’ dreams

left nothing of themselves

sometimes though

in the skeletons of old cabins

we children were never meant

to find

we would pull out old sunflower labels

from under the floorboards

the only gold that

any of us ever

found

Sunflower – False Riches

Every May, I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.


For more deceptive treasure, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

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