Sol's spirit skips across the blue -
a nascent multispectrumed hue
that sparkles in the morning dew.
Life made anew, life made anew.

His rays spread out, so manyfold,
across an easel dawn has rolled,
the new day's works to be there scrolled
in threads of gold, in threads of gold.

O'er mounts of green the morning breaks
to desert that no water slakes
and elsewhere there'll be soft snowflakes
the world awakes, the world awakes.

An animated mural warms
as all of life arouses, swarms,
and somewhere there'll be violent storms,
as art performs, as art performs.

I'd sit here at my breakfast table,
a new day born for my appraisal,
and say a maker is a fable...
were I but able, were I but able.
.