Gasp

Can beauty startle?

A spindly legged splendor unfurling fragile and pale.

Upon first eyeing the pastel delicacy of this grevillea growing near the house, I pulled in a quick short breath and let out an audible gasp. An amazement so intense it was not unlike having suffered a seizure; a “petite mal”. Followed, perhaps, by “la petite mort”?

My senses were assaulted so quickly that whatever resistance I might have harbored to not wanting to appear foolish in front of awe melted away.

Within seconds I was down on the ground
for a closer look
a closer embrace
a closer encounter with “Why?”.

Is it any wonder bees choose to buzz into the grevillea’s tiny pockets of fertility? And then, upon exiting the dizzy dance halls, spread pollen of tomorrow’s honey on yellow ovaries dangling on waiting filaments of red.

Why such a complexity of seductive ornamentation? Are the bees so much more difficult to seduce than a human’s more simple requirement for a crisp Italian suit, a slinky dress, smear of lipstick or splash of aftershave?

Talk about having the right gear. I’m knocked out by these flowers’ open invitation to look at their goods.

Upon whose lover’s face have I also seen this same colour of red circling an invitation to touch?

In the end, neither size nor species matters. The impact of beauty to the senses is simply a knockout blow of awe.

Up close and personal in front of this flowered burst of joyful intensity, one has no option but to fall on their knees in supplication, in prayer, in humility.