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.
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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.
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