Mimosa
the day the flame fell we knelt before it marveling at its tunnels addressing dead starlings the consecutive order of ants upright decay on which we strung lights we should have seen it coming instead we watched it going wilting and sopping but still holding up dinner inseparable to the Earth as if it nothing could be greater than to be put in its misery
This is the smell I love... That was the odor of the cactus flowers, mimosa and the sea-grape shrubs. Or would you rather smell frying bacon in the morning when you are hungry? Or coffee in the morning? Or a Jonathan apple as you bit into it? Or a cider mill in the grinding, or bread fresh from the oven?
- Ernest Hemingway