this might be a poem about trust,
or my highly irrational phobia of the sun exploding. 

sometimes i stare at it from the gazebo by the pond
just as its corona grazes the tufty branches over the woods. 

sometimes it makes my eyes all spotty when i look too long,
and energetic little fuzzies will jump about the corners.

it actually used to bother me more than the average person, probably,
the idea that the sun would swell up and burn out in deep, dark death. 

i’d imagined a million scenarios in my head about that day
when a black nothingness would swallow up the light in finality. 

most people might say it’s part science and part religion,
but i’m far too agnostic and far too google dependent to know.

all i know is that i’ve stayed up till sunrise near every day of june,
and thankfully, the sun’s the same as she’s always been.