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Furrows

Aborning sun lit the morning to flame
Rising from pink embers
Growing, lifting , shifting as a ball ablazed
Orange , then yellow, burning straight to white.

Karen asked: "Where does nature get these colors?"
                  The colors are nature itself.
                  It is only we who insist upon
                  beating the skies
                  black and blue.

An older day comes forth.
A sun being gentled to sentry duty
marching across fields of blue.
Joining the pace I follow along
our paths as furrows marking daily duties.

The pace of our life isn't measured in our duties, but simply in our movements.

Casey Kochmer Feb 2006

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