The Passing Sun
The Sun rises from the horizon.
Blinding, blazing and burning a lake.
Its water reached out, full of brazen.
The lake is there for the sun to partake.
The air is permeated with the sun's warmth and the lake's water.
The congested air satisfies a mountain's heated green top.
Tingling, and trickling down into a river,
Becoming a raging river, going down the mountaintop.
It’s robust, where only the finest sand may lay.
The sun is setting, much to the river’s surprise,
For the sun’s leaving will be the river’s downplay.
Without the sun, it will be a certain demise.
The sun leaves to the horizon.
The moon gives a sorry look.
The lake appears to be weakened,
Dying from the light the sun took