The Sun Lifts: A Poem – 9 August 2016

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The Sun Lifts

Oppressively soft
the morning mist –
the mourning mist
the funereal fog –
hangs a pall over the casket
of the day.
The doves coo their
sorrowful plaint
and even the ravens –
their undertakers’ frock coats
sleek and tailored –
are subdued.
The crickets and the peepers
chuckle and laugh and
interrupt
unruly children
tolerated
in the solemn moment
the cortege begins
the slow roll.
The sun lifts the western
hem of the white-grey
shroud and shouts
“Alive!
The day is alive!”

– C Eric Funston, 9 August 2016
Image from Pixabay

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