Millions of mile away
A shiny pinpoint on
the velvet darkness of space.
Another number (G2V)
in a numbered galaxy.
But to us, not just some
luminescent ball of gas.
Morningstar, with many names
Sol, Helios, Surya, Ra
you blaze and scorch and shine and kiss
and melt your way into our lives
radiating through even the tiniest chinks.
We adore you.
Nay we worship you.
All the world’s flora crane their necks
to follow your gaze horizon to horizon.
We mourn your absence
even for a night
(our satellite purveying only
cold recycled light).
And when you hide for days on end
behind a curtain of clouds,
we wither disconsolate in disappointment.
One wink from you is the road to pure bliss.
We, the inhabitants of your blue
and green planet, one of your octet,
(unless you count Pluto)
know we are different.
Why else the water, trees, flowers,
grass, bees, bugs, pollen, bacteria,
landscapes teeming with life?
Your constancy is a mask
we see through, like the little ways
you show appreciation. Your tricks charm us
like the one where you bend your white rays
over our sky in an arch or two of color
showing us the full spectrum of your affection,
or when you blaze through the gases of atmosphere
bathing us in your glow before you depart.
You hide your feelings well
and if we could look behind
your splendidly brilliant corona
we know what we would find …