Morning Was A Great Strange Clown Poem by moon batchelder

morning was a great strange clown.
it's giant orange nose
and gaping smile tower'd over town
and mountain as it lumbered close.

spreading seeds of sun, like laughter
stepping on the toes of night,
stumbling over hills and valleys
spilling basketfulls of light.

until, for day, the circus seemed
a meager satisfaction,
for being robbed of sleep and dreams.
three rings and such attractions

have probably been seen before.
the clown makes few concessions,
but casts his nose across the sky,
announcing days processions.