A Bee orchid has evolved over many generations...

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A bad day
a thousand years.
In the dying
of a flower I cried
for the petals- –
dust.- -Just like the one
single breath you pocketed
in the failing light.
Now you know
even shadows bleed
over dying flowers.
Ghosts stir endlessly
waiting for spring
– -its re-birthing, an
unconditional thing.
What’s one breath,
but air.  Shadows
move even in failing
light- -a ballet, night
drifts on silent wings
while embers spark
the sky.  I remain- –
all petals on stone
letting go
                 a sigh.

Copyright 2011, by Suzie Ashby.