Night-blooming cereus

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I feel like I've been waiting for months for the night-blooming cereus on our patio to bloom, like the wait for good news or a baby or a unicorn or sea creature to come into the frame of your camera set up in the wilderness. Its freakish glory lasts for a single night, once a year, if at all, and then it goes dormant. One wants to get poetic about it, like

Mine - by the Right of the White Election!

BY EMILY DICKINSON

Mine - by the Right of the White Election!

Mine - by the Royal Seal!

Mine - by the sign in the Scarlet prison -

Bars - cannot conceal!

Mine - here - in Vision - and in Veto!

Mine - by the Grave's Repeal -

Titled - Confirmed -

Delirious Charter!

Mine - long as Ages steal!

or to suss out whatever Walt Whitman said about white flowers and as usual, Whitman has the best attitude.

You must not know too much or be too precise about birds and trees and flowers and watercraft; a certain free-margin, and even vagueness - ignorance, credulity - helps your enjoyment of these things.



Shot with a Canon PowerShot SX using the flashlight from the iPhone 5 for lighting. Magic provided by flowers.