That Chair

It's not often I sit in the chair,
Watch the sunrise note stillness of air,
See the edges of white and gold,
Enjoy the warm while outside it's cold.

Those laced clouds when day is born,
Resemble a sheep after it is shorn,
Then the starkness of trees without leaf,
I love this moment though passing and brief.

Seagulls they cry their presence is heard,
Also the silhouettes of an old black bird,
In  the background suns rays stretch forth,
One to south the other to north.

There's an awakening spectacular it be,
Funnels of light it's these I see,
Blue and white fade out of sight,
A beautiful combination of dark and light.

Now it's arrived a brilliant golden orb,
Too much to see too much to absorb,
As I leave it's a fond farewell,

This days arrived in it I'll dwell.