by Ava Spampanato

The Sunday sun shone in a spectacle of yellows, reds, and oranges.
Each blistering beam placing a gentle kiss upon my scalp.
Fastened follicles of hair on my head glittered in its presence.
 
Like the sun, my hair was speckled with color,
Perfectly placed hues of blondes, browns, and reds.
It was as though the sun and I had something in common.
 
Because the God who made the sun,
So great and glaring,
Knitted each hair to my head.
 
If God is not intimidated by that great ball of fire,
My messes must not scare Him either.

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Ava Spampanato is a surfer from the Jersey shore, and currently writes from South Florida. Her writing is inspired by the ocean and the natural elements around her.