a place mislaid between expectation and memory.
Then they reveal themselves at our window-
ledges and sills as a pinpoint. A glimmer.
Their courtship swarms. How some kinds may steer by the moon.
which is knee-high, and too blue to warn them
what they crackled and burned around. They will perish---
From: “New Collected Poems” by Eavan Boland, pages 220, 221
(Thank you, dear Erin, for mentioning Eavan Boland to me not long ago. I went and found 5 used books of her amazing poetry. Once again, you feed me.)
"To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat." ~Beverly Nichols
"Perfumes are the feelings of flowers, and as the human heart, imagining itself alone and unwatched, feels most deeply in the night-time, so seems it as if the flowers, in musing modesty, await the mantling evening....~Heinrich Heine
"The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks." ~Tennessee Williams