get up, s u n

Sun wants to dream late.

{They} are a bit of a sleepy head.

{They} have to rise, to pluck the day.

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Cackle google doo, cockle google dee.

Get up, Sun!

Before day peep, tiny white moth flitters float the moon.

Barking dogs keep stars shining.

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Prime Minister, the rooster, starts the wave. With his scratchy yell, he screams,

“Cackle google doo, cockle google dee

Get up, Sun!”

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Sun stays sleep.

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Next rooster down the way, P. Miller, crows along.

“Cackle google doo, cockle google dee

Get up, Sun!”

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Sun stays put.

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Just over the river, a sky-blue crack splits open the black-black night.

Clouds race through.

Pinks, oranges, purples, and blues flood the air.

Light pours over and around buildings.

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Still no Sun.

Sun still has not moved.

Oh, Sun.

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Now rooster, Andrew Martin, joins. He breathes in a very big breath.

“Cackle google doo, cockle google dee.

Get up, Sun!”

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“Cackle google doo, cockle google dee.

Get up, Sun!”

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Way out East, Sun stretches golden rays over the land.

Yellow ball lifts high like a yellow balloon.

It smells of dawn.

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Sun is up. Sun is up. Sun is up.

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Roosters dance.

Wings shuffle, clap, flap.

Sun streaks again.

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Roosters sing.

Cackle google doo, cockle google dee.

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Cackle google doo, cockle google dee.

New, new day.

photo credit: iwhite