The Sunset

The Sunset

The sunset graces the porch of our realm,

To blazen our foyer - to so overwhelm.

Into the front, then out our back door,

Then visits our neighbors and shines on their shore.

Dare ask he remain, not leave us behind?

And shun the poor west? No - sure they'd be blind.

Should our gavel swing down to judge that he stay?

Thank God that it can't. Free Him! - Today!

The sun grants time through imminent powers,

While clock hands steal your minutes and ours.

Or was it a second, or a tick, or a tock?

The hour hand moors the sun to its dock.

Helios begins to rest his sweet head,

Claims He his pillow of soft Earthen bed.

With sheets of warm rain, and clouds for a quilt,

His mattress is foliage, forests, and silt.

His rays stretch out in an orange blazen yawn,

To rest and regain his strength for the dawn,

His measure of leisure. The pleasure of sleep,

He lays himself down. His 'sol' for to keep.

He sucks not the life from the land to the east,

But suckles instead the dawn, as if yeast,

Would raise up the eyes from their rest to the west,

Now leavened, they rise, in sunlight - caressed.

Jerry Viviano - 2008