Le Soleil Parle (The Sun Speaks)
I rise, as dutifully expected
My work, for her, the focus of my mind
Dawn’s brushstrokes, as yet, have been rejected
She covets sunsets; in my own design.
My aestival canvas offers brilliance;
aureate finale to close of day.
Vernal gloam, often dabbed with turbulence
In hope to wake her flowerbeds in May.
Brumal evenings, I sketch in black and white
pearlescent backdrops shaded with dove-gray.
For her favorite, autumnal twilight
my prismatic palette on grand display.
In my descent, while struggling to remain,
Just one glance, I pray, from her window pane.
copyright 10/18/2000 Mona Wanlass