Old Sun!

Agonizingly slow, the sky peeps Sun’s color into my view,
For once the pollution appears beautiful and new,
From brown to orange and muted deep reds,
The clouds visually resonate the sun rising from His bed.
Like an indirect light illuminating my room,
The walls take on a pastel color yellowish hue.
A lower level of clouds rimmed across its ragged edge
With burning orange-white, a splash of mystic sedge
As though the sun had toasted the night,
The once blue vapor into a magical light.
"Rise, Old Man, Rise!" and trembling he seems to fear!
Wavering, the crescent rises into the visible atmosphere,
As if the introduction once again to a mere human,
Somehow frighteningly intimidating against its burning brand.
I laugh at the thought, Old Sun has been caught, revealing,
His one weakness this morn. I have but one moment for stealing.
His one weakness this morning opens a crack, I seize the door,
The sky, the color, the sun are mine for a flash of time, no more