Green arms rise in praise of old sol.
Egyptians shout Hooo....Ra.
The Chinese bang gongs,
To keep hungry dragons at bay.
The near dead see you for the first time.
Fishermen look to red sky.
The Quebecois tips his chapeau on the way to the cafe.
In Toronto we do not notice you until you are not there,
And then we wonder where you went as the rain falls.
The near dead see you for the first time.
The Prairie farmer knows you well.
His sky is yours from dawn to dusk.
"And the skys are not cloudy all day".
If a cloud should appear he welcomes your tears.
The near dead see you for the first time.
You tug at the mountains,
And play peek-a-boo with us on the Pacific coast.
Some majestic green towers never see your direct gaze.
How they envy the others.
The near dead see you for the first time.
You are a trickster to the tundra.
In winter months you hint at your arrival,
But by summer you show remorse for your games,
And dance with us through day and night.
The near dead see you for the first time.
Old Sol, forgive us if we take you for granted.
We are too busy looking at the shadows you cast.
Longer as the day goes on.
But always know that,
The near dead see you for the first time.
