The Golden Globe
by Mark E. Schrull
I await arrival of daylight gold;
And yearn for a slight breeze to blow,
The prelude colors chase the cold,
And shine on prey, my eyes narrow.
The greatness of the golden ball,
Chasing the dark night away,
Rising in a deliberate crawl,
Night to day and dark to grey,
Golden globe spectacular;
The day begins so simply,
Like king or queen, a Caesar,
Takes its throne so easily.
And so I fly, amongst the clouds
Shifting, gliding, wandering,
My feathers do become my shroud,
Thoughts inside are pondering.
Hungry offspring wait back home,
Caring little of golden globes,
I see my prey like shinny chrome,
My beak, my wings, makes deadly probes.
Harvest the fish; I can do this,
And care not of their little ones.
My children eat in wondrous bliss,
Till them the golden beckons.
And when the season meets its end,
And children fly and leave the nest,
And I no longer must depend,
On golden globes setting west.
(Originally published by Yahoo.com/Voices 2/19/12)
Copyright 2012 -2014
Mark E. Schrull