The Sun Poem by Sara Dickson

Blaze, sun, blaze you fire streak,
Above horizon ashen sneak,
Specked with brilliant heat from molten core,
Ball of flames such orange pumpkin,
Burning object, many lore.

A gleeful creature shed rays of light,
Bring swift end to blanket night,
Lava white pinpricks vanish far,
Seen not 'till the moon prevails,
And sky so soft is dipped in tar.

She with fame a myth ruled over day,
Angel pure free from decay,
Deity honored with many precious gift,
Bow down to her majesty,
Sacrificed poor lamb so swift.

But she, a terrible being slaughter,
Stole away liquid, took the water,
Dried the life, said died of thirst,
Wrinkled hopeless fruit from limb,
Not only blessing, 'tis the worst.