Fickle Sun

Orb aglow,
Playing peek-a-boo
Behind clouds of white and grey.
One minute coy, the next a hussy.
The feel? Warm in your presence,
Cold in your absence.
Fickle sun.


(The Septet is a poem, containing seven lines.
The French word Sept can be found in it, which means seven.
The Septet doesn’t have to rhyme and can be about any subject you like.
This is how the Septet is built up:

Line 1: 3 syllables
Line 2: 5 syllables
Line 3: 7 syllables
Line 4: 9 syllables
Line 5: 7 syllables
Line 6: 5 syllables
Line 7: 3 syllables)