Sunrise

In hues that hint at pink and gold, an edge develops in the black. Then pushing up there at the fold, a stunning disc begins its track. A sliver-pierced pastoral scene, a shriek, if color had a sound… Startling, indeed, but pure and clean, birthed from the earth, pushed from the ground. The disc has now become a ball, borne up by some repelling force. As all are captured in its thrall, it launches on its charted course. In seemingly unending ways, the sun brings light into our days. ---------- I labeled this a sonnet, as it has the traditional rhyme scheme of an English sonnet (abab cdcd efef gg), but the lines are all iambic tetrameter, so technically, it isn't, I suppose.