Morning

When I wake up,
 The sun is on fire,
 Golden flames stretch across the sky,
 The air is thick, the heat grows higher.

The silence breaks with chirping birds,
 Yet sweat already stains my brow,
 The morning burns without a breeze,
 As time moves slow, and I ask, how?

Still, there’s beauty in the blaze,
 A fierce light that starts the day,
 And though the heat may wear me down,
 The fire gives life in its own way.