I like the man

through the eyes of

the clouds, rain, stars

mostly the sun

I like the smile

through the days of

the hopeless, tired, weary

but mostly pleasant

mornings on the porch

I like how the smoke

from cigars and kisses

intermingle with the morning mist

mostly how they make love

to the chirp of birds

and in the dew of roses

I like the man 

who worries not of

silly things.

He is the morning sun.