Quixotic Sun

Where does the Sun go

each day looking so bright

the clouds wondered

worried if he would ever set off too far

Where does he go indeed

asked the stars sitting pretty

we never see him enough

What does he do really

wondered the moon

the whole night when

I am holding the lamp for the world

The Sun was quixotic in his nod

dismissive in his shrug

and the large smile

that grew on his face

whoever needed to answer stupid questions?