The morning sun glared at me as I opened the curtains,
it seemed to be right in front of my face
causing me to flinch involuntarily and close my eyes.
It burned blindingly bright, hanging suspended
in blueness still clean and untarnished
in the six am sky.
The startlingly bright silver ball of fire is surrounded by a golden halo
which diminishes in intensity as the sun that is day matures
and the fireball ascends becoming a more intensely golden orb
infinitely richer and hotter than its youthful silver form
but only reaching the zenith of its power a little later than midday
after which its vibrant rule will begin to dim
weakening by the hour until it basks
in a vermillion hued old age
and finally abdicates its rule of the heavens
and sinks into its dusky welcoming bed
only to be resurrected and ascend its throne of sky
again in all its might and glory
with each new day’s heraldic dawn.