Words from the Bus

Sol ~ The Sun

Sun yelling in my ears,
"Get up lazy woman."
But I don't want to hear.
His bright, brilliant song,

Pounds down on me,
Reddens my skin
With his sharp slap.
The sun wounds me so

Much that I wonder,
Why I pray for his presence
During the solemn, dark winters,
And why everyone always puts,

A smiling face on him,
In their kindergarten crayon pictures.
After all, he's not a nice sun.
He doesn't let you just

Sit and drink up
the juice of his rays, no,
That sun, he just yells,
And yells louder in your ear--

"Get up lazy woman!"