Thirty-seven original poems of which this is only one: Morning light leaks ever so slowly into the eastern sky going from gray to pale blue to gradually brightening shades of pink and then suddenly the sun leaps up like a beach ball that has been held beneath the water Kaboom! We are blinded by the ball of light. This is the way our Lord will return. Suddenly we will see him after centuries of looking to the heavens through fog or dust or dusk or rose-colored glasses: Immense, Bright, Undeniable.
