As much as I like sunshine, I prefer cloudy days more because of the phenomenal Mirabilis Jalapas that hold onto daylight. On warmer days, they are content to remain as buds to bloom later on in the afternoons, hence the name “four o’ clock” flowers. Mirabilis in Latin, means wonderful and that is how they make me feel.
Somewhat bushy, these flowers grew from a tuber given to me by my neighbour. The pink and yellow trumpet shaped flowers have a delicate scent. Hugged by the purple and white brunfelsias on the left and the blushing bougainvilleas on the right, they are content self-seed, lay low and bloom embracingly.
For a while, they lay dormant and I lamented their absence but their moodiness was short-lived. Such is the appeal that I mean to pot some closer, outside the library, so that I may enjoy their full bounty more.
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Gefangen in den eigenen Gedanken,
verloren in dieser Welt der Träume.
Die Sehnsucht nach Erfüllung,
die Hoffnung nach dem finden,
die Angst zu verlieren,
die Stärke zu besitzen schwach zu sein,
den Mut zu haben Gefühle zu zeigen.
Ein Traum den ich Träume.
© Bernd Hoffmann
When you leave I become
the sea gull begging salt from
from the briny air.
My veins are a winding tunnel
beneath a deep purple sea.
I channel you in the snow owl’s
perpetual call that awakens the
sleeping night and the phantom of
your hand at the linen across my hip.
Your shirt hangs from a closet door
in the buttery sunlight and I become
so small I could slip inside the lining
of your chest against the warm skin
where I long to be.
art by Anuraag