a Petrarchan sonnet
A coin of gold stands erect
on the sea
ready to plunge into night. The skyís all
aflame with glowing colours that enthral
the waiting pairs of lovers such as we.
Our souls sense the rhythm of surf on scree
harmonized by a shorebirdís plaintive call,
its silhouette etched on that orange ball,
transfixed by Godís wondrous immensity.
So take some time to really watch the sun
quench its glory in an ocean of peace.
Ions burnish the iron-bluish sky
when gold melds with copper; and day is done.
As purple clouds sail this velvet cerise,
just think about the day that just went by.