To a Morning Glory
O stellar trumpets rising from the tangled vines
That twist and twirl about our trellis,
I recognise in your sublime hues the saturated twilight.
I recall your shades of violet blended with sky blue.
What do you bring to mind?
I seem to find the echo of old forests in your colours.
Like the manticore or unicorn, your glory does not stay.
You unfurl with the light of day
And curl into yourself by nightfall.
Whatever mystery abides in your depths
Rises to the surface when I study your perfection.
For a lesson in the means to overcome eventual decay,
I choose your effortless, effulgent display.
©2016 Michael Fraley
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