Le Mood: Flowers In Her Hand

Did you see that?

All was still in the kitchen, filled with morning light, but for one small bloom. A stem of delicate hellebore stood tall in the crystal vase given to her by mother years ago. As hours ticked away, petal by petal floated down to the soft vintage lace of the tablecloth. Poised with drawing pad and pen, Adele mused at the poetry in trying to capture beauty in such a fleeting state. She rested her materials on the table and rose to meet the vase. In one tender movement, she scooped up the petals and held them to the window with her hand. Faint sunlight shone through the papery blooms, those few that held on, and she remembered the beginning lines of an old favorite poem.

 What is more gentle than a wind in summer?
    What is more soothing than the pretty hummer
    That stays one moment in an open flower,
    And buzzes cheerily from bower to bower?
    What is more tranquil than a musk-rose blowing
    In a green island, far from all men's knowing?


Sleep and Poetry, John Keats. 

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