by Don Blanding
Sometimes the strident reds and burning blues,
The raw vermillions and magenta hues
Are all too harsh… they persecute our eyes.
So then, like pallid ghosts of butterflies,
White Ginger blossoms float above a pool.
Divinely fragrant, silken-soft and cool,
Or Stephanotis, mimicking the tropic skies,
Flaunts gleaming waxen stars before our eyes;
Sheer webs of lace the Spider-Lilies weave,
So frailly delicate, we must believe
that pixies, skilled in magic, spent the night
With nimble fingers spinning "Queen’s Delight";
Magnolias tilt their carven ivory cups
To catch the moon-wine that Titania sups.
I cannot name them all… I have not room
To praise each flower that with sweet perfume
Beguiles my lazy fancy with it’s fragrant white
And floats a web of glamour on the magic night.
Last updated November 17, 2022