Forgotten
by the lovers of perky daytime flowers,
a plethora of hauntingly beautiful flora
bloom
within the quiet of the night
in
the most special
of
my
gardens.
The opening
of their ghostly pale petals
against the soft silvery leaves
portend the ritualistic coming of the moon.
Queen of the night sky;
the mysterious and beautiful moon
spreads her veil of soft luminescent light
silently towards my yard.
Like sylvan ghosts,
ethereal fingers of pale light
glide through the leafy canopy
of the ancient pepper tree,
calling out to her most hidden...
...her nocturnal floral subjects.
Sultry wisteria is the first to answer her call.
While the world is sunless and still,
donned heavily in the perfume she only wears
after dark,
wisteria gently climbs into the naked open arches of the pergola
to partake
in the slow dance
of night.
She laces slowly through slight gaps
and the occasional knot in my tired deck,
wrapping her taunt ringlets around the outstretched fingers of the sleepy trellis
within the heart of my backyard.
Tracing a drowsy, aromatic loop
over the rusted shovel
left forgotten
in the side yard.
Fragile clusters
of luminous lavender blossoms
begin to bloom
from an open bodice of tender leaves
and an ancient tangle of climbing earth-brown vines.
Beautiful in the extreme,
and much to the bitter dismay
of the sun,
wisteria does her best work
at night.
Unlike wisteria,
who shares her outer beauty with both the moon and the sun,
the luminous petals of her entourage
will never be visible
within the thunder and flurry
of daytime activity
which is slated
only
for the sassy and brightly-hued
flowers of the sun.
My moon garden's lovely blossoms
twinkle softly
within the presence
of
moonlight
lost within their own song,
until that time
when
their silky petals are enshrouded
by the morning dew.
Within that silvery veil of dawn
-- the exact moment between the last shadow of night and the first breath of day--
their fragile petals begin to fold protectively,
providing cover
as they fall asleep
unseen
within daytime hours
-- leaving wisteria lonely --
until at last,
at the beckoning of eventide,
the pale and fragrant petals
once again open in full bloom,
longing for the glow of moonlight
as they begin their nightly dance
beneath the wisteria
once again.
across the plethora of time-worn pieces begging to tell their history
... and I would happily listen. 
across the plethora of time-worn pieces begging to tell their history
... and I would happily listen.
I'd love this basket full of Vintage European grain 
