You are the sun. 

The honeyed ring that brightens the sky

and nourishes life. 

Constant, radiant, warm. 

Beams of sunlight flooding

the air, pooling across foreheads and lips and bare thighs. 

Ethereal rays, drifting

casually through rose-scented air. 

Shafts of energy, burning fiercely across a 

lonely and desolate moor, 

coaxing lush tall grasses and vigorous, blushing flowers 

out of the dry, cracked earth. 

This is who you are.

This is what you do. 

Just as the March sun envelops the Earth in its warmth, inspiring flowers to unfurl their petals toward

the sky, you have poured your golden light into my heart, 

and awakened those withered plants which have lain dormant for so long.