Full Moon, Too Soon It's Morning

our august night, that feeling as we watch clouds moving in high winds, their stratospheric soft shoe, I ask if you think angels painted each cloud, and blow with pursed lips cool midnight breezes, as if we've been granted god's parole from the sun's summer heat, asleep but waiting for morn, dormant in the still warm concrete, you smile like a cat in shadows, forgiving me for waking you, stolen from rainbow dreams, as you turn to watch each distant star appear as clouds dance away, I say the moon turns a key, and the zodiac opens, you laugh and point at angry mars, alive winking like fire, your little gasps as finally we see, the horizon's honored guest, blazing through pine tops, like a pharos finally sighted sailing a crepuscular sea, you clasp me close, in hushed awe and pajamas, eyes reflected in lunar hues, as the heaven's white lady shines her frozen expression, singing one note forever, and all I can think, is that the story really is true, I don't love you to the moon, that's too near of an orbit, if my heart could take me to the farthest reaches of space, I would ride there on moonbeams, and catch dust from a comet's tail, slide back to earth on fiery meteor showers just to see the love on your face brighter than supernovas and as the earth finally turns pulling over its cold velvet blanket we’re each drawn to our beds falling down that gravity well to pillow dimensions and tranquility bases…