Sunrise Means We’ve Turned

Sunrise means we’ve turned,
I and the ball I spin with.
So the sun blooms, and we
once more have a chance.

She warms me now,
her arms full of light
assuming the goodness of every being,
the man on the beach collecting cans,
the snowy egrets and the white-beaked coots
passing in silence on the water,
and me, in such need of her gift.

Mother Star, again your love.
You lay your path of diamonds on the lake.
Your golden eye paints the sky
and cloud streams swirl
in peach and velvet grey around your fire.
Because of you, this day dances new.

When I walk the other way,
toward the setting moon,
you stretch the shadow in front of me
so I seem to stroll on long-legged stilts,
reminding me of my true size.

When under a pine, I pause,
green needles dripping sunshine,
I see you through hanging branches
and you bless us both.
On I walk, and cosy my back
close as I can against a cedar trunk,
and gaze as your rays make double
a pelican sailing in the waking lake.

On posts, a cormorant and two night herons
bask, perhaps they pray.
And when the cormorant
spreads her wings to gather your heat,
oh dear Star who loves us all,
I spread my arms and join the morning prayer.

©Susa Silvermarie 2025