The night time wishes to gift you with something rare <br />but we have become too disillusioned to look for it <br /> <br />We only see commonality all about us, drowning us <br />we don't take time anymore to scratch <br />just beneath the surface covering <br />Time is too dear, the payoff seems too imaginary <br /> <br />Precious, pristine things are not often exposed to free air <br />the Four O'clocks hide in shadow <br />what they don't show to the daylight <br /> <br />Casablanca Lillie's have fragrance extravagance to spare <br />but we label them exotics, and stay far away <br /> <br />Night Gladiolus looks too much like a weed <br />and might make us itch. We look otherwhere <br />for our amusements <br /> <br />Evening Primrose seems too prim and occidental <br />Or maybe we are too lazy <br />to hunt Moonflowers in the dark <br />without a moon to illuminate their delicate star-worshipping faces <br /> <br />When you find out you have missed the jewel of seasons <br />the monarch of expectations <br />Think again of all those nights you spent surrounded with wonder <br />and how inexpedient you found it, to wander <br /> <br />Never too far, from your pre packaged, well insulated homes <br />your urbanely kempt neighborhoods <br />Feasting on the same plastic hothouse flowers <br />exactly like everyone else had <br /> <br />Spoils come to the explorer <br />But only leftovers, to the comfortable<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-gardens-of-midnight/
