This morning she got up
On the happy side of the bed,
Pulled back
The grey sky-curtains
And poked her head
Through the blue window
Of heaven,
Her yellow laughter
Spilling over,
Falling broad across the grass,
Brightening the washing line,
Giving more shine
To the back of a ladybug
And buttering up all the world.
Then, without any warning,
As if she was suddenly bored,
Or just got sulky
Because she could hear no one
Giving praise
To her shining ways,
Sun slammed the sky-window closed
Plunging the whole world
Into greyness once more.
O Sun, moody one,
How can we live
Without the holiday of your face?
Grace Nichols