New days

A simple short poem about the new day.

The orange ball that crosses the horizon reaches me
A brand new day from which all will see.

Decisions to make and explore
But all forgotten to nature on my door.

No hardships or troubles in the sky
Fresh dew that sits but never sighs.

Old trees that stand and never tumble
Creatures that listen and play but never tire
And then great clouds that float, fluffy, on fire
The orange ball watches all, but is immune to me.