a play of the sun rays in a glade
is a riddle for me whether the sun isn't abusing
its competence
dropping this hot a weapon
on green grass
golden rays are romping
about then immoderately
it is burning green stalks mercilessly
sometimes a rain to hit it through
the cloud as a warning, and in a minute
hot tongues are drinking the juiciness
indefatigable brightened imps are feeding
on the tired grass
as sun tired with the day, like the
golden spider weaving thin threads,
it will call them to the dream,
on the radial web,
and then they will have a dream
about silver butterfly amongst
white cherry blossoms
and a day...
Maria Barbara Korynt
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-play-of-rays/
