Winter Sunrise

	Looking through the window at the sunrise;
	Golden sky shading into blue.
	Black clouds hover, dark spots on fiery gold
	Like a cheetah's spots.  The trees, bare of limb,
	Reach up to the blue, shading into black.
	All these colors, from nature's palette,
	Form the painting.  The trees are like great harps,
	On which the winds play the song of morning.
	The arts of nature, displayed since time began.
	But this, an ice-cold sunrise of the winter,
	Is tarnished by buildings, smearing the painting,
	And cars make an off-key note in the dawn song.
					---Amanda M. Hayes