That Darn Old Sun
That Darn Old Sun
The sun in its merry old way, plays peek-a-boo around the snow capped mountain peaks. When it reveals itself, it laughs at us and holds its warmth against its own private bosom. It deceives us into thinking that it is coming our way. It skips along the horizon and slithers through the pines like a fox that can’t be caught. The quiet forsaken brooks plead for it to settle and spread its rays about them, but all that can be seen are long shadows laughing their way into the sunset. Oh sun, the incarnate giver of life, come back and bare your soul to me, for Mother Earth and I extend our hospitality most graciously to you. Our dreams hasten the seasons to run their course, and cannot forgive their own plodding ways of doing it.
