Sonnet #235

We bloom at night when nothing but moths
are pouring from the shadows, our perfume
calls all their tongues to dip into our womb
Where we hold ground and make, our worth
Is measured in the memories of souls
Where bent by us, the moon's refraction,
With the gesture of our palms,concatenations
of our scents, intoxicate all strolls
with echoes in the air, our silent songs,
This scent of flowers shining from the bark
Where petals hidden pale and focused strong
 to call the moths of midnight, they embark
in dreamlight off their hard cocoons, but not for long
We feed these shadow countries, cool and stark