morning

What must befall me?
must I jump?
I've stood too long
feet sore
wings aching from non-use
eyes dart, a million stars surround me
and I'm overwhelmed in lucidity.
a taste of fine grapes
and a message hardly legible
made of leaves in the wind
moments later no more than a pile.
but by then it is no longer a secret
her smile is obvious as she kisses me
softly as the breeze
on midsummer's day.