Mary Ellen Strack, Breaking Light II

floated on a sea of turquoise glass,
effused the air with golden tone,
and touched the horizon with indigo.
I begged the sun to ray-up longer.

Often my eyes found mundane
the diurnal rotating of the Earth,
discounted the Omnipotent Hand,
and slighted  the value of permanence:
a sun unceasing after a 40-day flood,
unceasing after it was uncrowned Sun God,
unceasing while hidden by the mushroom cloud.

Then light refracted, a single ray, askew,
dancing midst  greenish-blue,
writing ‘cross my humbled heart,

“. . . because He first loved [you].” (I John 4:19)

Pam Miller