Sunrise

Peeking

from Ether’s

bed of feathered

comet tails, spun like cotton

candy into cloudy animals drawn

from starry nests in periwinkle seas that

fill Heaven, a yawning peacock fans a floral breeze

that tickles the feet of birds and crowns the globe with oranges,

plums, and berries, gems plucked from Rainbow’s prize, while Horizon

bursts into buttercups rimmed with pearls of milk filled with honeyed dew,

and earthy sweets tease the palate, a mourning feast for Nature’s cradle, as blades

of warmth pierce the heart of Shade, and wilting rays fire Axis’ revolution of days grown

tired from budding life into promising splendor, never returning to an unmarked passage,

until rest restores the way, and Grace sparks the blink of an eye.

— Terri Lynn Cummings