He gathers strength in the morning
For his wild parade by day
The masses sing in warning
So the Cold Things may hide away
All make way for his daily show;
The Earth lays forth her fortunes
The soldierous bees emerge to chant
And they tend kindly to the new blooms
When fires dance, their imitation
Is small and weak in comparison
He waves his parade, nation by nation
The King of all, the Sun.
Posted in response to the challenge Sun.
The sky is falling
In my mind
The one that used to hold
The morning sun
The daily mantra
How the setting burns in gold
Pikeville, Kentucky was small, but Zach and Ben were smaller. Bullets on bikes, zipping around, everywhere at once. Always there for dinner, but gone before the first dish made it into the sink.
I was born in the morning
when the wind's gentle hands
would fly past me- laughing
should we run through the land
I was born as the birds were
under the eaves
of a soothing huckleberry
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