For Now The Beauty

I never have seen such an unusual orange sun.

Setting Sol, gaseous sphere abutting Earth’s
horizon.  Rays refracting longer through
an atmosphere, life-giving fusion reactor
billions of years old.  God to primitive
man, (object of worship still)…
star. 

Stormy surface, prominence in abundance,
spots every eleven years on average,
eight minutes away measured by
light speed.  Busy hydrogen
and helium afire, wherein
even blades of grass
are dependent.

Dawn’s father (nexus of both night
and day), ahold of planets, moons
and asteroids, creating comet tails
because of solar wind aplenty.
The sun is significant pucker
in space time itself; existing
splendid to make day, to
spark the invisible world,
to manufacture DNA. 

In balance is this grand orange sun;
it is a battle between its core’s inner
fire and the relentless pull of gravity. 
Long-lived this sunset master-painter,
this system tsar who rules with iron-
like fist, who came into being, most
likely, by a supernova explosion. 
Yet this stellar kingly plasma
ball will expire without pomp,
with no fanfare, without roar.
A cold white dwarf (a lump
of ash) it will become, one
day, billions of years from
now.  Yet we don’t have
to worry.  For now, at
least, orange beauty
reigns supreme.       

40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp 
10-20-17