The Sun’s beaming smile
Bathes the plains with gold.
Lord of the heavens,
Circled by your sons
We call planets,
Your searing heat
Keeps us warm
And well.

I love the summer
With those shiny beaches:
Radiant reflections
Kissed by sky-blue surf.

Sun, you are a surge of nuclear bombs
Devastating the darkness,
Destroying the frosts of outer space.

Blindingly beautiful
Yet you redden evening clouds:
Red sky at night delight
Indeed.

Ball, orb, sphere, call you what you will,
Sol if you prefer.
The pale moon mimics you
Even blocks you at times,
But you are never eclipsed for long.

The sky is your playing field
Though the starry crowd is hidden
From your fiery light.

See the sky brighten
Just before dawn,
Then witness the birth
Of another fine day.

Paul Butters