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,
Pam Miller