The Sun and Magic
Two poems by Joan Adams Burchell (copyright)
One-of-a-kind Mixes
I wonder if the sun is a giant kettle, boiling colours all day,
And sunsets are colours, spilling at will, each day in a different
way?
A pretty time on a winter's day is when nature's palette spills;
When shadows fall on the crusted snow and the sun sinks low in
the hills.
It doesn't go without leaving a gift - its painting for the day;
Melon, mauve and raspberry make the mixture for today.
A ball of fiery, passionate-orange at only half-past three,
Now leaves behind a treasured mix that never again we may see.
***
The Magic of the Sun
When the sun shines on the fields of snow and the ice upon the
tree,
A gleaming crystalline palace meets the eye and captures me.
I allow myself to enter in, drawn by the dazzling view;
My heart is touched with a diamond wand and suddenly all is new.
Before my eyes, the winter day transforms to an image of spring,
When the river dances in the sun, bringing brilliance to everything.
The beauty is etched upon my mind by nature's famous sculptor,
The happy host of the sky - the sun - and a most-magical captor.
