Written by: Anne Rutherford

Sunrise, a painting becoming
 visible, on the horizon.

Up it goes each morn,
Till the dew disappears.

The sun has risen high in the sky,
Like a beacon of light.

The warmth of the day is here  
to delight.

Till nightfall descends,

The end of the day paints 
the western sky.

And twilight vanished into night.

Copyright 2008
Anne Rutherford
Poems From The 
Heart Series