I enjoy the essence of sunlight

That this giant ball of gas has the audacity to light our streets

that the atmosphere is a swirling filter

that clouds are like sunglasses

if sunglasses could cry

If sunglasses could pour monsoons down into our rivers

Like tip-toeing teardrops dripping into my veins

so it seems

Wind gusts like merry-go-rounds

spinning sparkling leaves like fairy dust

and oh- what beauty

in the dewglistened trees

and again, in rising turmoil of hues

the sun gleams