And the Sun Rises

The bee knows to find pollens; the spider, to bridge a gorge— driven, as in the blood. Stream follows a slope and locates the sea in a rustling meander, gathering moss, throwing up gloss. None can stymie the racing sun, or slow the course that providence set till decked with a garland of purple rose. It's in the blood; in a genetic transmutation wrought by the ageless hand that sculptured and hungq floating moon and winking stars. The sun cuts through dense jungle, drills a way in pitch darkness; he sucks honey from rock, draws the fury of fleas in the lea. Cry against his blazing rays, the scotching heat, but hug the warmth lest winter whines while summer flees for lack of spring. © 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi