Saguaros At Sunrise — Image by kenne
The Capture of Mr. Sun
The sun is a lion
circling his cage,
Caught for you, brought for you
on this wheeled stage,
Through fixed bars glaring
his wrath and his rage
Like a pen for the baby
or bedrails in old age.
The lion is a sunflower
with a broad gold face,
Its petals outstreaming
like a mane or the rays
Of that candescent Power
we all watch pace
Through the gendering heavens
on its circuit of days.
The flower is tracing
the sun on its rounds;
The carnival moves through
its orbit of towns;
The lion's cage rolls
your streets up and down
Where be pads and we shiver
at his smile, his frown.
-- W. D. Snodgrass
