Calla.
Hepburn.
A sense of snow.
One could lose oneself
in a drift of pollen
or in a recipe
or in a poem.
And all these
ways to find
yourself
well nurtured.
Nothing modest about.
Athough delicate to the eye, heady and sensual.
If it were a poem -- a sublime Spring haiku.
If food -- a light yet elegant sauce for fish flavored with hint of tarragon.
Decidedly, a high heel of vines.
reflected with the precision of paint. Sometimes the fleeting appears solid. You can touch the flowering succulent, but can you touch the intersection of reflection & flower? Can you say the poem that is only reflected in your mind as each of us recalls the first time we saw an egg yolk?