Sunrise
Silky ink of night drifts to peaceful slumber
while Sunrise blushes as she wakes.
She opens morning’s door and smiles golden hope
and a warm welcome to your every day
then, needed elsewhere, slips quietly away
just when you become aware of her presence.
You want her to stay, but how
do you tell a sunrise what to do?
Would she be as precious if you
could program her to shine on cue;
if she didn’t have a mind of her own?
Do you know how to tell her
to sing a lullaby to Night,
soothe away his worries of the day?
Do you know how to tell her
the way to survive Night’s hungry cry
when he awakens too soon,
when the golden keyholes to heaven
that help him sleep are smothered by
the darkness of fear and doubt?
How do you capture for yourself
what can only be yours in freedom?
For where is the treasure
in an ordered, designed, defined dawn?
