The Sun, It Rises Poem by Sandra Osborne

The sun is behind the mountain,
Trees black against the red,
Like fingers stretching from red to white.

Half the scene is black,
The other red to gray.
With stars here and there,
Venus commands the sky.

No ball of fire,
Just subdued hues,
Every color shown,
And the deer are coming
Into view.

And quiet, oh so quiet,
I can almost hear
The sunshine breaking
Across the Blue Ridge
And down so slightly
To the shining Shenandoah.

Where the scene is completed,
With reverence and awe,
With beauty overwhelming,
Another day becomes.
Another showering sunshine,
Another glorious sky,
The sun, it rises.