Dinesh's photos

Come on let us see All the real flowers of this Sorrowful world ~ Basho

Just as I wonder whether it's going to die, the orchid blossoms and I can't explain why it moves my heart, why such pleasure comes from one small bud on a long spindly stem, one blood red gold flower opening at mid-summer, tiny, perfect in its hour. Even to a white- haired craggy poet, it's purely erotic, pistil and stamen, pollen, dew of the world, a spoonful of earth, and water. Erotic because there's death at the heart of birth, drama in those old sunrise prisms in wet cedar boughs, deepest mystery in washing evening dishes or teasing my wife, who grows, yes, more beautiful because one of us will die. - "Orchid flower" ~ Sam Hamill

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allium_triquetrum

BREATHLESS, we flung us on the windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass. You said, “Through glory and ecstasy we pass; Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still, When we are old, are old.…” “And when we die All’s over that is ours; and life burns on Through other lovers, other lips,” said I, —“Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!” Excerpt: "The Hill" ~ Rupert Brooke (1887–1915).