Sunrise

A short lovely poem.

                                                      Sunrise

A blank canvas, empty and void;
Quietly, a painter takes his seat
ragged brushes in hand;
Crickets chirp as he begins.

A dark blue stroke,
followed by a lighter shade;
A bright red orb is formed
set upon a field of tangerine.

Clouds of gentle pink
develop under loving hands;
Strokes of purple fly upon the canvas
as darkness begins to fade.

His brush, dipped in black,
dances as silhouettes of trees emerge,
framing the sight of early morning;
The artist leans back to observe.

Birds release their glorious song,
trees rustle as the morning breeze stirs,
Squirrels chatter in the high tops;
An orchestra of wondrous approval.

A smile appears on the artist's face
as the sound of morning rises;
The artist gently places his brush down
and leaves his work to be found.


                                          ~Written for a friend~