Paean to the Sun

©2017 By Bob Litton

Glad to seeya, Fireball,
as you bring a new day —
it’s what I count on — the morn —
thus I take you for a given!
I always assume I’ll view the next.
They say I came from you
as a blown-off cinder
long before I had a name.

Like a smothering mother
you hover around too long
sometimes, drying the grass
and the streams to death
and wrinkling my skin.
Yet I need your radiance
absorbed to keep my bones
from breaking —
which has more value,
the bones or the skin?

On a grander note, I like
the way you light up the horizon —
both at dawn and at dusk —
when the clouds become canvases,
and your beams transform
into pastel palettes, enough — almost —
to refute the atheists.
No one but God, I’ve heard it said,
can paint a sunset.

                       Finis

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