Sermon of the Sun

In a field that’s more a chapel, where sunlight serves as hymns,
A congregation of sunflowers stands, each stalk and petal prim.
They face the glowing preacher, the sun in full display,
Listening with rapt attention to the sermon of the day.

“O sunflowers, my followers, with faces oh so bright,
Rejoice in rays and warmth,” says the sun as it beams with delight.
Each flower nods and sways, in this meadow’s sacred hall,
Accepting the solar wisdom, standing fervent, green, and tall.

But wait, there is humour here, in this garden’s pious scene,
A comedy of nature that is both golden and serene.
For the sun’s sermon is neither solemn nor severe,
It’s a playful, punny discourse that fills the field with cheer.

A sunflower leans and whispers to its neighbour in the row,
“Do you really think the sun’s sermon will help us stretch and grow?”
The neighbour chuckles softly, “Why, that is a sunny thought,
But I’m more inclined to bask and glow, and not ponder a lot.”

And so the sun continues, casting rays and wisdom wide,
While sunflowers nod and giggle, in the meadow’s sunlit tide.
A church not of faith, but photosynthesis and fun,
A dance between the earth and sky, where laughter is never done.

Let us learn from sunflowers, in their sunny, sacred play,
That life’s wisdom often blooms in a humorous display.
For in this garden’s gospel, there’s a truth we can discern,
To live, to laugh, to love, always turn towards the sun’s sermon.