The Sun

The sun rests its soft head on the horizon

And from the time it goes down till the time it comes up,

I wait.

I watch and wait as the clock next to me ticks second by second.

Slowly, close to four a.m., small sunbeams are born over a black line in the distance.

Flowers open one by one.

And the more birds that chirp mean it’s one minute closer to daybreak.

Now, if my memory serves me right, it’s a week until Christmas.

Then it will be six days until the New Year,

And about ten days until my next vacation.

When my countdowns stop, I’ll go back to watching the sunrise.

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