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Sunlight pulls open floral umbrellas,
above these stratified leaves so like moons,
holding time as though a poised dancer,
sunlight his shadow and his toes these blooms.
Sunlight pulls open these houses and streets,
strings like marionettes the human play,
holding time as though a tray-full of sweets:
brittle, perplexed, as only lasts a day.
Sunlight pulls open each soft century,
riding, erasing the fiercest of gales,
holding time as though a solemn decree
pronounced to bear witness that all but fails.
And in stunning silence to continue
to reveal its fierce but temporal hue.
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