late August

a pair of mourning doves, though silent,
graced my visit to the garden this morning
with their regally humble presence
and the sunflower confirmed my suspicions
of its growth among unchecked weeds
surrounding the small black compost bin
by unfurling golden petals just far enough
to bless me with a glimpse of its face
as dew-drenched grass began to numb
almost-calloused feet, drawing my gaze
upon leaving to the prematurely orange
oak leaves scattered on the ground

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