pink inflorescence
sweetens on the scented air,
lime crystal leaves hum
in sunward silence
stirring with a distant breath,
the afternoon makes
nectaries engorge
to slake evening amours –
the kiss of a moth
will soon plunge deep in
one blossoming heart to draw
the essential sap
of chance morphosis
and bear it to another
on speckled wings of night.
—
Taimur Khan
