The Sun

By Kayin Borang

The sun, through the dewy morning, spread her arms

In distance, over the honeyed hills and the youthful trees, 

Harmoniously fusing with the blueness of the earth,

As all the living dances in its cordial kiss.

From the window, it creeps in gently across the floor

Like a glass of spilled honey, it grazes over my fiber,

Akin to a motherly caress tending the latent wounds 

Like the comfort of a woolen coat on days of winter.

By Kayin Borang