Dawn is breaking but it is still dark
I can barely see as I clear my path
Of snails bent on suicide.
The sky slowly lightens to steel.
Clouds layered in flattened dragon puffs
Move east slower than my snails.
Will the sun, this troubled spring sun
Beleaguered and harassed by bitter rains, show up?
Time moves as I stand
Focused on changes in the light
… And it comes.
A faint pink glows on the edge of a cloud
Followed by a lavender ribbon to wrap it up.
But the sun has other ideas;
He has little time
And even less room to maneuver.
He flashes a brilliant crimson beam
And brushes me with it
A fleeting embrace, a sweet taste of love,
The briefest of kisses.
The houses on the hill blush.
Then he is gone.
But he said he would return.