I’ll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, “That must have been the sun!
I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still. I can feel a sunshine stealing into my soul and making it all summer, and every thorn, a rose.
