"Morning Glory Three" - ©A. Derek Catalano
The Marvelous Morning Glory
When Dawn first brushes back the veil of night,
And spills her pail of soft and pearly light,
Before the robin finds his morning song,
Or shadows of the oak grow lean and long,
There stirs a wonder near the garden wall,
A silent climber, elegant and tall,
Who waits to drink the nectar of the sky—
The Morning Glory, capturing the eye.
O, see the vines like emerald rivers flow,
In twisting tides that ever upward grow!
With leafy hearts that pulse in shades of jade,
They seek the sun and scorn the heavy shade.
Like nimble fingers, tendrils reach and coil,
To lift their beauty far above the soil,
They wind around the trellis and the wire,
Driven by a quiet, green desire.
And then, the buds! Like silken umbrellas furled,
The tightest secrets in the floral world.
They spiral tight in striped and waxy cones,
In hushed and meditative, velvet tones.
But as the golden orb begins to rise,
A miracle unfolds before our eyes;
The torsion yields, the pleats begin to spread,
In hues of royal blue and wine-red.
Behold the bloom, a trumpet for the sun,
Proclaiming that the day has just begun!
A saucer wide of azure, deep and true,
As if the heavens dropped a piece of blue,
Or perhaps a splash of violet, rich and deep,
Awakened from a long and summer sleep,
With throats of snowy white or glowing gold,
A story of the morning, bravely told.
"Morning Glory" - ©A. Derek Catalano
The bees arrive, in fuzzy golden coats,
To navigate these bright and floral boats.
They dive into the center, deep and sweet,
With pollen dusting wings and tiny feet.
The butterfly, a floating piece of stained-glass,
Will pause to visit as the moments pass,
For in this brief and evanescent hour,
There is no throne as noble as this flower.
Yet, like the fleeting youth we hold so dear,
Its time is measured by the sun’s career.
For when the noon begins to sear the land,
And heat sits heavy with a golden hand,
The Glory bows; its edges curl and fade,
Retreating back into the leafy shade.
A bloom that lives a single day, no more,
Then shuts its petal-latched and silent door.
But weep not for the flower’s rapid end,
For it has many more to give and lend!
A hundred buds are waiting in the queue,
To drink tomorrow’s fresh and sparkling dew.
Though one may wither in the evening’s chill,
A thousand more shall climb the window sill,
A constant cycle, rhythmic and sublime,
The patient heartbeat of a summer’s time.
So here’s to you, the climber of the fence,
Who gives the morning such a recompense!
A temporary joy, a transient grace,
That puts a smile upon the garden's face.
O Marvelous Morning Glory, bright and brave,
You take the light that Mother Nature gave,
And for a few short hours, clear and bright,
You turn the world into a pure delight.
The bees arrive, in fuzzy golden coats,
To navigate these bright and floral boats.
They dive into the center, deep and sweet,
With pollen dusting wings and tiny feet.
The butterfly, a floating piece of stained-glass,
Will pause to visit as the moments pass,
For in this brief and evanescent hour,
There is no throne as noble as this flower.
Yet, like the fleeting youth we hold so dear,
Its time is measured by the sun’s career.
For when the noon begins to sear the land,
And heat sits heavy with a golden hand,
The Glory bows; its edges curl and fade,
Retreating back into the leafy shade.
A bloom that lives a single day, no more,
Then shuts its petal-latched and silent door.
But weep not for the flower’s rapid end,
For it has many more to give and lend!
A hundred buds are waiting in the queue,
To drink tomorrow’s fresh and sparkling dew.
Though one may wither in the evening’s chill,
A thousand more shall climb the window sill,
A constant cycle, rhythmic and sublime,
The patient heartbeat of a summer’s time.
So here’s to you, the climber of the fence,
Who gives the morning such a recompense!
A temporary joy, a transient grace,
That puts a smile upon the garden's face.
O Marvelous Morning Glory, bright and brave,
You take the light that Mother Nature gave,
And for a few short hours, clear and bright,
You turn the world into a pure delight.
©A. Derek Catalano/Gemini
Related poem: Yellow Elder - National Flower of The Bahamas
Related poem: Ode to the Royal Poinciana
View more: Morning Glory Images
