(Rudbeckia laciniata var. hortensia)
for Robyn Dentinger
She called it the outhouse flower:
eight feet tall that August,
eight feet deep into the air.
Goldfinches bloomed there,
wind-ruffled, the females
greener, the males ego-bright.
Persistent accidents, over time,
amend the constitution.
A late squall broke
the stems in two, gusty rain,
shouting from the pulpit.
Never trust an orator who grips
the podium with both hands.
Then off flew the goldfinches,
and summer followed
their wake of yellow petals.