Morning Glories Open to the Moon
Wondering, turned to the pre-dawn sky, they
Stared upward at the place where the unknown
So much like someone they knew
Shone, though something was different.
They recognized the radiance of their
Daily choreographer reflected
In the stranger’s homely face that glowed so
Relatively close above them, that they
Obediently opened, spreading wide
Their richly purple selves as every day
They, for their usual blazing mistress,
Did. Venus, like a magnesium flare
Imperiously glared at them, but they
Were heedless of her jealousy, simply
Satisfied to accept this stranger as
Their own; this stranger with no light to own
But reflecting the radiance of his
Love: she whom he has chased for eons
Succeeding only in sharing her sky
These few scattered yearly days, a few hours
Fading to a white ghost in her burning
Presence, an awkward and lackluster beau
Quickly and shyly withdrawing to
Compleat invisibility before
Her fiery glory. Loved by the flowers,
He basks in their love, however briefly
And mistakenly bestowed upon him,
A delicate love, beautiful and temporal.
Right before our eyes a love triangle
Wheels across our sky, the sun-loving moon,
The flower-loving sun and morning glories
Fooled for an eternal hour by the moon.
