They dance
across the sand,
kicking the watery waves,
celebrating the sun
on their arms, backs and faces,
while I cower
under layers of cloth
anxious for escape.

Perhaps they think I despise the light.

However, it is everything to me.

I sing the glowing, dazzling wonder of luminescence.
I catch it in the early hours of day
as it creeps silently into the sky
painting the heavens with broad strokes of peach and salmon.
I find it slicing through thick layers of whipped cloud
with a cornflower knife.
I watch it puddle through my window pane
illuminating tiny pirouetting dust fairies.
I follow it as it ignites the world around me.

Warm blues, golden yellows, rich reds.

I love the light.

But here 
in the middle of the stark day,
it is too intense.
It bears down on me,
ruthlessly pursues me,
wants to hold me,
fill me,
flood me,
consume me.

I hide from its fierce, raw passion.

Later at home
I find scorches on my skin