Sun Cook

Sun Cook

The sun rises up
Over the horizon counter
Pulling restlessly at residual fog
That tries to cover
The bright, warm, smiling face.
His arms radiate out
Extended over his domain
Scooping off the patches of dew
Resting in glitter piles
All around his work area.
Arms spread wide the sun smiles—
White hot gleaming teeth cover his face.
As the dew succumbs to the reach of his arms
The flowers rise up to greet him
Singing in unison
The song of Life:
“Pick me!”
Leaning into the warmth of his irresistible embrace,
The birds dance about
Anticipating the great orb’s power
To warm up breakfast buffet.
Heat rises and expands as 
The sun boldly stands up for the day
And the sky blushes in response.
Pulling on his cloud apron
He smiles again
And all the world 
Warms into quiet submission
The Master cook’s creation. 

Joy Eastridge


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