Our Place in the Sun
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I was an eminent, solar physicist, like the blushing rose, craving renown.
Each butterscotch morning I drove to work, and toiled until red sundown.
The observatory was the place I loved, keeping watch on our nearest star;
Like a pale moon that sits staring all night, its gaze near, anyplace we are.
I studied intense sunspots daily, as has been done over a thousand years,
To gain comprehensive understanding, as the weatherman into sky peers.
Fantastic, fandango dawn was fond memory, when faithful friends visited,
Passing minty, frenzied, fragrant meadows, as fuchsia butterflies pivoted.
Fiery, ruby flowers were out of focus, when family flew through fine mists,
In the featured, fresh hours of mulberry dawn, for loving hugs, and a kiss.
I lived in the house of graceful golden, each day washed in saffron fervor,
Where yellow jasmine bloomed, on days that gold honeybees murmured.
Sparrows sailed crimson sunset skies, on my street of the startling colors;
As crickets shared the afterglow news, like the memory of past summers.
New night necessitated neighborly visits, after sun issued its notice, nicely,
And silky laughter filled nitrous, nebulous air, as tales were told, concisely.
Summer was in red strawberry fields, in fruity snapdragons, breathing fire,
When sun put sea green butterflies in motion, until that plum sunset of ire.
And lovers called the moon 'honey,' as pointy stars fell in duskiness of night;
And emerald trees grew tall and charming, striving for sunbeams of delight!
One day I woke to a world dark as night, the dawn of sun's first vanishing.
The dire plight was not better at noon, as if a cruel queen were banishing!
World press went wild with conjecture! It was the most fantastic story ever,
Like gone, garnet robins, gossiping giddily, in the obscure skies of whatever.
But, how I missed my fervent, warm friend, of interminable orangey caress,
Like apricot rose of yesterday bliss, now gone to gracious heaven's address.
Yet, after a mere twenty four woeful hours, cherry sun was rising like mad,
As if nothing whatever had been amiss, and birds sang, they were so glad!
No one ever understood what had occurred, but the sun had skipped a day;
And a connected earth missed one, too, like a skipped beat as music plays.
Many halcyon years later, mysterious time and cosmos are still in harmony,
As we're adhering to golden tradition, and violet days we knew, commonly.
Copyright © Evelyn Judy Buehler | Year Posted 2024
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