There it is, playing peek-a-boo,

There on the horizon where the wind blew.

A pale pink wishing to be flaming red,

Not a fiery furnace, a misty shimmering instead.

Dawn hints of day, the sun awakens the hour;

Millions of miles away we feel its awesome power.

There as it climbs daintily over the straight edge,

Returning once again with its eternal pledge.

Giving us life, love and hope in its faithful return;

Its magical properties fall into our eyes to burn.

The clouds, the ocean, all absorb the presence felt,

Light showers down everywhere, all nature has knelt.

Not minutes ago, the world draped in darkness clean;

The voice of the loon breaks the silence unseen.

Now the moment has passed, the sunrise gone;

Left behind the stirring sound of its vibrant gong.

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(c) John Herlihy 31 October 2019