93 million miles
Have you travelled
To reach me
And warm my face

Walking to the station
I observe your golden rays
Making patterns between the trees
Illuminating this winter morning

A community of wood pigeons
Pick at the earth
Where the frosted grasses
Have melted in your light

And people appear
Walking through swirling clouds of whiteness
Like mysterious characters
Of some great drama

How clearly I see your rays
Simple straight lines
Journeying for 93 million miles
To where I stand

Avoiding any obstacle
To land upon one man’s face
And make him feel
Happy