THE SUN, THE SUN

How can I tell you about that sun  
sneaking up 
at the top of the street
this morning?
I wish I could say
what it looked like -
that perfect gold circle
against the quiet sky,
light grey with dark patches.

How can I say what stopped me,
made me reach for my camera,
stopped in the middle of the street
to capture that gold ball
over the hood of my car.
It was so beautiful.

But these are only words.
Words cannot hit you in the face
like a gold ball against a grey sky.
Because I could look at it -
it was the sun
but I could look at it 
and not be blinded.
And it was glorious.

But these are only words.
And I wish . . .
          I wish . . .