The Sun

1/29/07

The sun, white gold
in his descent, touches
the trees, making
beautiful warmth—
but leaves a cold shadow
behind them both.

He runs his beams
through her hair, illuminating
it, making it golden,—
she glows—
but she hides her face
from the sun’s sharp sting.

She has seen what he does
to the trees, so beautiful,
and following—it’s so cold
and dark.

She knows the danger
he brings—and yet what
fun he gives—until
he sets.

So what does she do?
How does she handle this
beautiful danger? Will she
let him warm her, maker her
glow as the trees do?

They are admirable, the trees,
they accept both sides to the sun—
they have no choice.

But she does.



it's old, but i figured i'd post it because we haven't been doing anything lately . . . i'll accept whatever kind of criticism you want to give me. I'd like to improve as a writer . . . :)