Morning Splendour Poem by Jean Renwick

Sunrise like fire,
bleeding pink, orange, yellow
into the sky and
onto the buildings below.

Rapids of cloud run with colour,
chasing the anonymous dark emptiness of night,
engulfing it almost imperceptibly.
Trees become silhouettes against the light.

Soon the beauty will fade to ordinary,
dispersed across the vast expanse above. Yet
it will gather again on the other side,
collecting yellow, orange, pink as the sun sets.