We woke then to that brawny, brilliant sun
Who seemed to scorn our tender, idle grace.
The gentle night, her dream-sweet vigil done,
Had left this blazing tyrant in her place.
His manner—rude and grand—did well displease
Two souls enamoured still in tranquil rest,
While fur and feather roused at his decree,
In raucous chorus, omnipotence professed.
Yet you and I retained our lover’s stance
And watched his ire ascend the morning sky,
And smiled when clouds obscured his lustrous glance,
Or when a a blessèd cooling breeze passed by—
For when you are with me, no weight I bear,
And for this peace, the wrath of kings I’d dare.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.