by Peter Franklin
It’s a beautiful sunrise
I said to her on this fine day
Of solstice,
And to the horizon stretching in front
Of me.
Blush pink-hued clouds
Nodded their approval…
Indeed.
Indeed.
She told me in her early morning way
That there really are no
Not-so-beautiful sunrises.
Aren’t they all spectacular…each one
Expressively different, signaling
Yet another new beginning.
Fresh.
Auspicious…
Sweeping away the clinging gloom of night.
I really had never thought of it that way
Before,
But I know I’ve never said, Hey…this sunrise is kind of
Ugly and plain. Maybe I just needed to
Take time and notice. I nod
Reassuringly and shuffle off
In my old-man slippers…
Knowing,
Of course,
That it’s all true.
The seasons change, and so do I.
But the sunrise, according to her,
Is always beautiful.
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