She comes riding early in the morning round
about four to seven.
No
one's ever
out at that hour
with eyes that see her touch the morning
flower see clearly and the leaves love the commotion
and the great trees gently sway
like an ocean on a still day and raising praise our arms to the Sun
who announces
the day has begun at eight frames a second and
velvety shadows and misty meadows are changing
colors so softly
with care the Sun puts color in his drawing and rises to
inspect his masterpiece this morning so perfect
and as she rides through gold and silver
miles only the Sun is sure what it is
that she smiles for she leaves with no sign of what she has done
though her
morning rides known by everyone I'll tell you her name and it's dawn
