On this morning.

The sun is not guilty today.
She knows full well she owes us a favor,
Having made us wait for so long for the pleasure of her company,
But now that she is here, she is merely fashionably late
And not guilty in the slightest
Gleaming happily through my white windowsills,
Quite aware that everyone is looking at her, and everyone
Is very glad she was able to come, and if
She could just stay a little longer, we would all be
So very delighted, so charmed, so grateful.
The sun is not guilty, not even close.
She has us wrapped around her ever-fashionable little finger.
After all, the moment she leaves, the party will be over
And no debutante should sacrifice her beauty sleep,
Much less one so much in the public eye,
So leave she shall, soon, too soon, leave us all
To talk about how lovely she was and how
We cannot wait for the next party.