Photo Courtesy of Isabelle DeLeon
There rises the sun in the midst of winter.
The array of cool colors in the sky.
Waking up the world as one would sinter.
Every winter morning until you die.
Cloudy, clear, rainy, or bright, the sun shines.
It’s always there, though the clouds may be thick.
Like a rumor that’s heard through the grapevines.
The rising of winter’s sun is no trick.
The early morning sky is like a gift.
The sunrise always different and new.
Clouds dance in the sky as you watch them shift.
The beautiful sky that’s painted with blue.
Winter morning skies, the sun shall arise.
It’s like a perfect painting in disguise.
