Night-Blooming Jasmine

And the night-blooming flowers open, open in the same hour I remember those I love. In the middle of the viburnums the twilight butterflies have appeared. After a while all noise will quiet. There, only a house is whispering. Nests sleep under wings, like eyes under eyelashes. Open goblets exhale the perfume of strawberries. A light shines there in the room, grass sprouts over the graves. A late bee buzzes at the hive finding all the cells taken. The Hen runs through the sky’s blue yard to the chirping of stars. The whole night exhales a scent that disappears in the wind. A light ascends the stairs; it shines on the second floor: goes out. And then dawn: the petals close a little crumpled. Something soft and secret is brooding in an urn, some new happiness I can’t understand yet.