The rising sun

To watch the disk of life, illuminate
give birth to colors, hold dear
it speaks to my spirit, my implicate innate
there is nothing in this world to fear
each living tree three hundred year
each year all the more to contemplate
for we are kept alive by this warmth so clear
returning forever, every year a new slate
it does not judge, it bathes you in light.
But while I enjoy summer, others will fight.