Glory

Yes, I saw you
in the dark hours of the morning
the full moon taking you from behind
as I so crave to do.

Yes, I saw you
awash in moonglow and the barest
chill of southern morning air carrying
the memory of sweet hot summer as well as
the promise
of cool autumn crispness

And, yes, I saw
your very own pink summer buds blooming
tight and hard
harder
than the bite of the dark morning

Your flowers, I saw,
opening, reaching, stretching forth.
Morning glories
Awaiting their sun.