Sun Course Poem by Barry Middleton

The sun props up an elbow in the dawn
and casts a sleepy yawn,
inquisitive birds to test the air.
They travel with the leaves, a wave
of dreams transported by a primal breath.

The sun stands upright, the heat of noon
emanates a grating order
that makes the humble beasts
stampede among the scrub, nightmare-like,
fleeing prima facie rule.

The sun then sets in the ancient west,
soft shadow sounds remain
of rustling sheets as wise animals
glide among the palms that edge the sea,
like death seeking out its source.