With leisurely pause,
admiring its own reflection
in the faint ripples of a quiet stream,
a rising sun considers
with what tints,
to paint this morning’s canvas.
Night has stolen all bright color
from these sleeping trees,
leaving black shadows yearning
toward the morn.
But sun will waken them again,
return to them their palette
of vibrant greens. And little clouds
that blush before first light,
will don the dignity of prudent white.
For everything is change.
The cycle turns.
Sunrise to sunset orb, the canvas melds
from tone to tone, a silent symphony
in which the sun is maestro
of it all.
© 2019 Mary Lou Healy
Photo by Linda Parker