melts an old icicle-heart
Look up eyes
see the sunrise
the sky begs eyes,
A shock of cloud
echoes the first ray of morning light
and like a woman changing gowns,
the sky tries the burgundy,
then the salmon, then the gold,
and there’s a slip of blue peeking through.
doing what You set them to do,
and poets write.
Still the clouds ride on, ride on
begging eyes look up,
look up, eyes.
A blog that begins with a post about the sunrise. That seems right.