The Death of Garden Flowers

They impregnate both water and soil with their surrendering as we do. After the wilt cadaverous blooms rattle their bones, the desiccation a scaffolding, the skeletal hollows a refrain of a beauty more everlasting. The wilting but a pouring prologue to that last stand. Sunlight feeds them sunlight eats them, shadows dream them unto death, but it is a death more beautiful than the sunlight or any shade, and when the dark green sludge comes the reek is not of them, but of our idea of life & death. In that last silent exposure the dead offer up their perfection uncaring of any discerning eye.