Sunday Sonnet!

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Not always do we see the blessed sun,
Or feel the cheerful presence of its balm,
Its intent by inclement climes undone,
Need not beset mere mortals with alarm;
Elsewhere the sun god sheds his golden rays,
Consistent with his quintessential being,
While here the constant hand of time conveys
We, earthlings, smile of Ra shall soon be seeing.
The rise and fall of rolling ocean waves,
Or undulation of the hills and dales,
Portray with fine panache how life behaves,
Revels of times as much as their travails.
Whatever shade of darkness be the night,
‘Tis but the absence of returning light.

©Meanderings 2018

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