Painted Sunrise

A great black canvass- no!

There! A splash of paint

A bright, bright red streak

Gliding across the sky.

The painter's brush, thin and small

Hints at small blue dots

Beginning to form in the ocean

Of swirling blue and red.

The rippling tides in the heavens

Up above, high up

Wave down at us

With light green hands.

Their twinkling purple eyes

Smile down upon us, too

Telling us to come join them

They are so few.

And then the slate is wiped clean

Gradually, bit by bit

As the tumbling mound of orange

Surrounds the great black board.

It is day again.

The paints have slashed the board.

A new day.

A new canvass.