The sun plays its own game
In a metallic blue shock of sky.
It will dance with the
Serrated birds,
It will flicker and laugh
With the stars.

The sun winks when you shout its name;
She longs for attention
In spite of the raw,
Boundless cold.
This valley is indifferent
To her passing.

The sun is frozen against a canvas which flows
Slowly over our heads,
Around and around.
She’s dizzy with the repetition
But can’t stop.

Sliding on the iced sphere above.
The sun watches the tide as it goes and goes
And leaves this place
In plaintive reverie.
The stars replace her form;
Hovering in a black-green
Shimmering expanse which stretches overhead.