The morning sun spilled blood across the sky
And slid his golden daggers twixt the gloom,
Transfixed the purple dawn with bloodshot eye
And strode across the hills in cloak maroon.
He ran his midas fingers through the trees
And turned to diamond every drop of dew.
Strew silver from his purse in bold decree,
And drowned the moon amidst an ocean blue.
He drank the morning mist from forest glens
And feasted on the shadows of the night.
His laughter soon awoke the sleeping land
And struck it blind amidst rude splendor bright.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.