Poetry

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Sun rising slow from desert's floor across the earth the warmth did pour
Then the artist dipped his brush and painted sunrise with a blush.
In hues of pink and gold it gleamed and dew sparkled there on cactus green.

Again the brush swept across the sky with grandeur from the artist's eye
And purest white the puffy clouds against the blue they stood so proud

Blossoms perched on cactus high and I could not suppress a sigh
Such beauty from the artist there painting a picture oh so fair.
From throats of birds a song they sang across the desert there it rang
A song of praise in solitude a song to set the artist's mood.

With twilight he again swept brush and desert quiet with his hush
He painted sunset so supreme then took away the cactus green.
Now painted all in shades of grey to show the ending of the day
Now blackness settled over all no longer did the song birds call.

And now his brush swept across the sky and starry night gave reason why
The moon painted in shades of gold the story of the desert told.
A lonely howl came in the night and hoot of owl but out of sight.
I closed my eyes in sleep to dream of the artist's brush the morn would bring.

By Mitzi

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