The Diffused Sun

"Why are all reflections lovelier than what we call the reality?--not so grand or so strong, it may be, but always lovelier? ...Even the memories of past pain are beautiful, and past delights...The moon is the lovelier memory of the down-gone sun..." ~George MacDonald

The Diffused Sun

The evening sun

Sets.  Ember-like in the horizon 

Gathering memories of the day-gone-by:

Those loved, conversations spoken, tasks fulfilled.

Leaves reds purples yellows streaked across the sky

Finally, a whisper and a faint breath, the light

Gives way to deep blue and then, star speckled darkness.

The morning sun

Rises.  Everything under its spell draped in a

Deep glow of orange, and on to a palette of soft yellows

Energy steeping in a cup of wake-me-up-it’s-time-to-face-the

Music…again.

The sun after a storm

Paints.  Glorious, masterful strokes

Casting beams here and there

In varying shades of intensity: amalgamated light and shadow

Light and clouds play together, mellow, beautiful, quiet.

The sun in a raindrop

Reveals.  Broken light, a hidden spectrum in one single ray

A surprising, spectacular array of color.

The sun in a forest

Filters.  Timeless in dense leaves, branches

A delicate weaving through mist and dew,

Broken and bejeweled:

A still life of perfection.