Thursday, January 19, 2017

Sunrise

Oh the beauty our Father spreads before us.


Peace and rose and gold,


And cream and baby blue,


And rimmed with fire,


Clouds of slate.


A most spectacular sky just now.


I know I'm late,


But how can I be expected to drive,


And ooh and ahh?


I pull over and clasp my hands


In a child's wonder.