My Morning Star

Rising shine from a darkened dawn

gazing upon expectancy of desirous 

notion in the afterglow of humming give.

The delirious watch an enigmatic

eastern sky in wonder and puzzle

for tell tale signs of westing rollick

within a jazz rift... begging for more.

There is less in the telling

of a bleached purity and

patch of soul... for Juno.

Heavenly bodies do not confabulate

nor share tokens of the inexpressible

under the goggle of a mortal peer.

That is why.... close to you.