Fragrant Orchid

FRAGRANT ORCHID

 

At twilight, moth wings quiver among vetches.

Hawkweeds fold inward, suns imploding,

And blackbirds chink in monotone,

Abandoning song.

 

Pollen, chalk-dust, haze the hill;

In a lamb’s eye, a glaze of sleep,

And on the wind a fragrance stirs

The residue of day.

 

By moonlight, moth tongues probe the flowers

And curling tubes receive them, musk-pink

And translucent; nectar-titred,

Candied receptacles.

 

Moth tongues caress the moist viscida.

Pollinia drag as they withdraw,

Nature’s anti-prophylactics,

Slim packages of sperm.

 

Source material: David Lang, Orchids of Britain: A Field Guide, Oxford, 1980. Poem by Giles Watson, 2009.

 

Note that if you view this photo in its large version, you can see the level of the nectar inside the spurs which accommodate the tongues of moths or butterflies.

Done