"Sunny Day"

“Sunny Day”

Today the cynic laughs,
The clouds are buttercream,
The trail of yellow on the road
Is the stroke of a crayon.
The world can’t be real—
Why paint a sky cerulean,
Why color anything?
Women should wear dresses
So the wind can tease their hems,
And if a child reads,
He should do it in the sun.