They say the sun can’t talk at all
But oh, today I heard her call
From oceans of cerulean sky
She cajoled me with her eye
Right through the window to my chore
Until; she drew me through the door
And led me over emerald scape
We danced, I lay against the cape
She spread across the fragrant earth
I drank the sun-warmed wine of mirth
As purple-petal meditation
Lent a sweet intoxication
In the arms of new-born flowers
Who dares tally pithy hours?
For I must see the wee bud wake
Nudging its shell until it breaks
And I must see the leaf begin
A tiny flower on a limb
And I must hear the trill of lark
I cannot wait until its dark
For then the sun has slipped away
And I would miss what she would say
…they say the sun can’t talk at all
But I know I heard her call
What she said I'll never tell
He only hears, who listens well
© Janet Martin
That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it!