by Annette Snyckers
I like early morning sunlight,
the way it elbows through the trees,
getting the birds all excited.
It smells of toothpaste,
toast and tea.
In passing, it caresses the cat,
but it is busy, there are things to do.
By mid afternoon it slants into the room,
dragging wearily across the dusty floor
like a tired friend hinting for a cup of tea,
who’s come yet once again
to complain about life, its brevity.
By sunset it feels that after all,
things are not that bad,
turns its thoughts to evening dress —
to orange, lilac, purple
and that soft, black velvet cloak.