The Bold Panorama
Toss, misty mare's mane, catch the flame,
Of sunset's grandeur on the bay.
Oh, yes, anticipated once again.
Bold panorama, end the day.
Promising skies today the eyes enthrall;
Little blue gray puffs tiptoe the line.
Frame the lowering , sun's fire ball;
Sillhouetting sweethearts in its decline.
But, tossing waves,. charge on the beach,
On sinuous lines, catch the advancing flame ,
Before, on firm, white sand your power unleash,
Settle back, white foam, the traces that you came.
Bold sun, your deliberate descent,
Stoop to kiss the brow of tossing sea,
Like rivers of coals, flow, its extent,
Its foam a fanfare for the eve to be.
We watch you drop, accelerated fall,
Like a hot air balloon your design,
Touching the sea and slipping, half a ball,
Then but a glint on sea's horizon line.
We begin to turn away from the shore,
Stopped by a scene of glory yet to view,
Color rising, expanding, richer than before,
Then warm colors begin submission to the blue.
And one bright star tells us of night.
Would we wait and hope to see moon's rise?
The sweethearts walk unmindful of our sight.
Sunset, thank God, this gift of scenes and eyes.
©04/15/2012 Carol Morfitt Welch