Daisy Life

The Shasta daisies that bloom around the windmill fell over, so I gathered them in a big clump and tied them to it. Then I gazed at them, pretty much at eye level, close up, wondering how they’ll look by tomorrow. They’re all every-which-way, but they’ll figure out how to find the sun, they’ll all figure it out, and they’ll turn to it to continue on in their daisy life. There isn’t a one of them who will lie and lure the others to - oh crap: it’s a miserable time for us, I’m going back out to the garden.