BY DAWN LAWRENCE

There are gray days
and even weeks
where day after day,
sorrow follows sorrow

Then comes the sun,
and as fast as it had climbed down
the horizon,
it pulls itself up
joyfully,
back into the sky,
rested and raised
like a banner of love 
over us

We cannot get enough–
the light honey
coating our skin
glistening of gold

Warm faces, rosy cheeks    
our mouths speaking 
of praise now following sorrow,
of gray days
being washed
away.